Finding Lucy
by jjharris2621
Summary: Formally "The Best Thing I Never Knew I Needed"  A Pezberry futurefic. Rachel is searching for a leading lady for her senior project and who better to play the female spawn of Lucifer, than Satan herself? But will a secret past hinder their ability to work together?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't on Glee. If I did, Faberrittana would be canon and the idea of Finchel would be erased from history**

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><p>"Hey! There's my favorite brown haired director." Rachel hears when she crosses the threshold of her three bedroom New York City studio apartment. She tosses her book bag, keys and jacket on the table next to the door before turning to greet the small blonde sitting on the futon across the room.<p>

"Hey Caroline," she grumbles, "Why the hell are you so chipper?"

"Why are you so grumpy?" Caroline rebuts, patting the empty space next to her on the futon.

"Senior projects suck," she sighs, plopping down next to her illustrious apartment mate.

"Let me guess. Still haven't found a girl for the part?" **Hell No.**

"Not even close. I've auditioned like 25 girls and nothing. I mean, how hard is it to find a girl with the right attitude, acting, singing, dancing abilities and overall stage presence to play my leading lady?"

"Well, who can really embody Satan's half-human daughter anyway?" And again, she sighs. She knows the blonde is right. She has less than 4 months left at Tisch and of course, being the over achiever that she still is since graduating McKinley High, she had to pick the hardest thing possible to do for her senior project. In other words: to write, direct and co-star in an original musical or play. She had hoped that her over ambitious determination had been left in Lima with all of her animal sweaters and plaid skirts but not everything changes in 4 short years. Regardless, she now has a musical to cast and finding someone to play Lucy, the daughter of Lucifer/Satan is proving to be harder than writing the damn musical itself.

"Are you sure you've looked everywhere?" Caroline asks, interrupting her musings. "I mean, this is New York. There's a lot of talent around and Mr. Jameson said that the cast doesn't have to be all NYU students. So there's got to be a girl out there who is **good** enough to play Satan's seed. So to speak." Rachel sits back, practically melting into the futon and thinks. Was there someone out there? Maybe. Somewhere.

"I used to know a girl who could be the part," she says slowly.

"Yeah?" the blonde says, sitting up to give Rachel her undivided attention.

"Yeah. Back in high school. Just about everybody believed that she was either Satan himself in human form or at least his half-human spawn."

"Sounds like a bitch."

"Most of the time. But she did have her moments of humanity."

"So perfect for the role."

"Maybe."

"Could she act?"

"She played Anita opposite me in West Side Story senior year and totally killed the role."

"Could she dance?"

"Like sex on legs."

"Could she sing?"

"Think Monica, Adele, and Amy Winehouse combined into one bitchy Latina."

"Damn. Sounds kinda hot." Rachel playfully punches her on the shoulder, inducing a laugh from the blonde.

"Will you focus?"

"Okay. Sorry. I'm focusing," Caroline says in between laughs.

"Geez. Sometimes, I can't remember who's the lesbian here. Me or you?"

"Definitely you. I could never date a girl. I was simply commenting on how that combination of powerhouses would make a pretty awesome sound."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, if she was so great, why not not call her up for your musical?"

"Because I haven't seen or heard from her since graduation and I have no idea where she went after she left Lima like the most of us."

"Well it's a thought." The blonde then looks at her watch. "Shit. I got lab." She gets up from the futon, slips on her flats, grabs her book bag and walks to the door. "Let me know what I can do to help narrow down the search for you," she says with one foot out the door.

"Okay. I will," Rachel replies, stretching out into a lying position.

"Happy hunting." As soon as the door closes, the petite brunette groans. Caroline was right. As usual. The snippy Latina cheerleader from McKinley High school would have been perfect for her musical. But like she said, she has no idea where on earth Santana Lopez had gotten to. And to be honest, she isn't sure she wants to know.

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><p><strong>Review please. All CONSTRUCTIVE criticism will be taken into account. Reviews will improve my writing and your overall enjoyment of the story.<strong>

**The faster you review; the faster I update.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all the reviews. Seriously made my weekend and got me to writing. I'm still working on this so updates may ****sometimes**** be random and out of nowhere. But Christmas break is coming up so updates will most definitely be frequent. As requested, this one is longer and hopefully, will continue to get longer as the story continues. **

**Also, who is super excited about tonight's episode? The performances are going to awesome, some civil (hopefully) Faberry interaction and maybe a Brittana kiss...Maybe? Fingers crossed. **

**Well, enough of my rantings. Onto the story!**

**but first ****- Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, Faberrittana would be canon and the idea of Finchel would be erased from history**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

If there's two things Santana hates; they are women AND her unrelenting love for them. She thought that she was one, that she could understand them. But no. Women are just too damn complicated. Take girl #2 for the week: Kirsten or Carlie or Cara or something like that. When she asked the tall, Italian waitress out after meeting the night before at a club, she thought that they would grab a bite from somewhere, catch a movie, go back to her place, get naked and then be done with it. But, of course, Carla (that's her name) wasn't that get-it-in-quick kinda chick.

"Are you seriously kicking me out right now?" Carla asks Santana in a raised tone. She had been standing the middle of Santana's messy two bedroom apartment living room for the better part of twenty minutes in her black lacy bra and matching thong ranting and raving about being forced to leave before the sun comes up. Santana, on the other hand, had already changed into a pair of black running shorts and a purple short sleeve under armor shirt and had started to wander about the room collecting the other girl's clothes and belongings. "Actually, I'm dead serious," she says, tossing the bundle of items at the front door, landing with a loud thud.

"What? No breakfast? No shower? Not even a goddamn kiss goodbye?" Carla stalks over to the door, grabs her things and starts to redress.

"Not really my thing. I thought I debriefed you on that last night in between orgasms."

"Omigod," Carla scoffs.

"Welp. Guess I didn't," the Latina says with a shrug. "Well, either way, you know now. Now, I have a run I'd like to start and you're sort of messin' up my schedule. So, por favor?" She opens the door and gestures to it with her free hand.

"Wow. Just wow. You are something else Santana Lopez. Truly something else, you know that?" Carla, after frantically putting on the rest of her clothing, grabs her black stilettos and bag and walks out the door. Just as the Latina starts to shut the door, Carla stops in the hallway and turns back towards the door. "Lose my number," she snaps.

"Already deleted, querida," Santana says, calmly while rolling her eyes.

"Bitch."

"Whore." **SLAM!** Just like she thought: .Complicated.

Back inside the apartment, Santana grabs her iPod from its dock on the table by the door and her headphones from the side of the couch before sitting down on it. She grabs her black and red Nike cross trainers from the floor, slips them on and gets busy tying the laces. "Fucking women would be so much more fun without the fucking emotions of all the fucking women," she thinks aloud.

"You know, someday one of those girls you kick out on their asses is going to come back to kick yours." She looks up and finds her favorite Puerto Rican drummer leaning against the door frame to the adjacent bedroom.

"Hey Luis," she says returning to her task. Luis is 25 year old Colombia graduate Santana met her freshman year there. He had been her undergrad Calculus TA and shortly after she dropped out at the end of her freshman year, offered her a jig singing with him and his band in New York after his graduation. Before you get concerned, they had a long chat about how she was into girls and he had no chance in hell getting with her and if the arrangement was indeed some sort of set up to get into her pants, she would promptly rip off his man parts with a pair of heated tongs.

So after spending some more time together and moving to New York with Luis's other best friend and band guitarist, Kevin, they found that they had the same goal in life: to make music and to use it to get as many girls as humanly possible. To say that after that revelation they became the best of friends would be an understatement. They pretty much became like siblings.

"You know, you're probably right," she starts, "but I don't keep a gun under my bed for no reason."

"First off, it's a **pellet **gun," she rolls her eyes, "so very little actual damage would ever be done if you shot it. And second, you couldn't shoot a woman if you tried." She pushes off the couch until she's standing.

"Hey, don't hate on my pellet gun. I've had Bitchslap since I was seventeen."

"You named it 'Bitchslap'?"

"Yeah. Puckerman hit me once and that thing stung like a fucking bitchslap. Well that and it tends to quiet bitches when they see it. Just like a,"

"**Bitchslap**," they say simultaneously.

"Exactly. And I so could shoot a woman, if necessary. I've gotten into plenty of fights with women. What about the girls from high school? What about Quinn? Mercedes? Lauren?" Luis pushes off the door frame, walks over to the small kitchen area, opens the fridge, grabs a bottle of water and finally takes a seat at the table.

"You never maliciously harm a woman you've either slept with or plan to sleep with," he says opening the bottle and taking a big swig. "Besides, all three of those fights took place in your angry, sexually repressed years, my former pressed lemon."

"True. I was sorta hiding **way** deep in the closet my sophomore and junior years."

"But now that you're out and my favorite lesbian,"

"I'm the only lesbian you know personally, jackass."

"Harsh. True, but harsh." She smirks devilishly before walking towards the door. "But like I was saying, now that you're out, you're a lot less violent. Or at least from what I've heard from the stories 'Cedes, Q and Britt like to tell."

"Trust me. I am."

"Regardless of whether or not you would assault a woman or not, the way you treat them is still pretty fucked up." She opens the door.

"I don't really care about what you think. But you wanna know what's fucked?

"What?"

"How you timed out after two minutes. Now that's pretty fucked up, if you ask me," she says, entering the hallway.

**"WHAT?"** he yells, scrambling to the door, spilling water from the bottle along the way.

"Yup. Briana told me everything about your date the other night, two minute man."

"All lies!"

"Sure."

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><p>"Look at this stuff.<p>

Isn't it neat?

Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?"

'Oh dear Lord, kill me now,' Rachel thinks as she watches the bubbly red head try to capture the emotion of the teenaged mermaid. 'Why Disney people? I mean really. Part of your world?' She had already auditioned, like, five girls today for the role of Lucy and though the red head on the stage isn't singing terribly, Rachel doesn't see it. Becka said that the girl killed the dance audition, she did well reading for the part and her singing is up to par but to Rachel, the girl just doesn't seem to have the right attitude.

So lost in her thoughts, Rachel doesn't notice the girl on the stage stopped singing until she hears Caroline clapping in the seat next to her. By reflex, Rachel starts to clap as well, triggering a huge smile to appear on the red head's face. "That was very lovely, uh,"

"Sarah," the girl says.

"Right. Sarah. Like I said, that was lovely and we'll get back to you about the role by the end of the week," Rachel says, trying to sound as director-like as possible.

"Alright. Thank you for your time." She then scurries off the stage and Rachel lets out a long sigh.

"She was good, right?" Caroline asks, excitedly.

"Yeah. I guess," Rachel says, lacking the same the enthusiasm.

"What? You guess? She has it all. She can dance, act and sing. What is she missing?"

"I don't know. She doesn't have the right, uh, oh I don't know. Just something doesn't work." The small brunette slouches in her seat, rests her head on the back of the seat and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You know who needs to stop working?" the blonde asks.

"Who?" Rachel answers, bringing her hands up to her face and covering her eyes with her palms.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes. You. You've been working too damn hard lately and that's probably messing with your judgment a bit. Since tomorrow's Saturday; I suggest we go out."

"I don't have the time."

"Then make the time. There's this new jazz club in Brooklyn that I hear has awesome food, drink and entertainment."

"But I don't wanna go out."

"I don't really care. We're going. Me, Becka, Gavin AND you." Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs. She had been sighing a lot since starting the production of her musical. But maybe her best friend has a point. She does need to relax. And what's a better way than to sit somewhere nice, sipping wine, and listening to jazz music? Definitely not the worst way to spend a Saturday night and trust, she had had worst Saturday nights.

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><p><strong>Don't worry, some Pezberry interaction is coming in the next chapter. How do you think their first interaction after 4 years should go? I have it written one way but your comments could change it around. Sooo..<strong>

**Review please. All CONSTRUCTIVE criticism will be taken into account. Reviews will improve my writing and your overall enjoyment of the story.**

**The faster you review; the faster I update.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So sorry for such a long wait for an update. Life sorta happened all at once. With exams, the holidays, the new year and some serious re-conceptualizing, I've finally got back into the swing of things. I will now try to update bi-weekly. Or sooner depending on my schedule. Now I'm trying something new by alternating 1st person POV's and I want to know what you guys think of it. If you guys hate it or prefer the way it was; don't hesitant to shot me a review and let me know.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Glee, not Nike, not Amy Winehouse...Nada. Although I did make up the Blue Mic Club. That's mine **

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><p><strong>Santana POV<strong>

Running in Central Park has become my favorite past time since I moved to New York. It started out as a just a short cut to my favorite bagel shop in the morning but quickly turned into a run through and then a part of my morning routine. Even though it's kind of cliché to say that I run through the park to take in the sights; it's 100 percent true. I run through to appreciate the trees. The leaves. The lake. The venders. The people but mostly the women. Hell, solely the women. If there is one place pretty women in New York seem to be found (besides the night club scene); it's in Central Park. Taking in all of the loveliness. Just like me. And I've been pretty lucky in the women catching department too. Like this one time a few months back…

**I was out on my usual morning run when I decided to stop at one of the venders for a bottle of cold water. It was a crazy hot day for October in New York and I felt like I was bout to die from heat stroke. So anyway, after I got my water, I took a seat next to some young black girl. She was dressed in running shorts and a tank top and was cradling a water bottle just like me. She was pretty cute and from what I could tell, had a pretty athletic build. Like a dancer or runner or something. My favorite type of girl. So it was just my luck when she tore herself away from the water bottle and asked me a simple, non-flirtatious question. "Are those the new Nike cross trainers?" At first, I was thinking 'What the hell is she talking about?' but then she pointed at my shoes. OH.**

**"Yup," I said, taking another sip of my water bottle. "I just got them about a week ago."**

**"Oh really? Where'd you get them from? Because I've looked in all the sneaker places around here and I can't seem to find any in my size." She turned her body slightly so that her knees were nearly touching mine. Flirting 101: if a person turns their body to face you in a conversation; they are interested in something about you. All I needed to know then was if she was interested in me or just my damn cockblocking footwear. "I actually got them online on the Nike website. They have them in all makes, colors and sizes so whatever you want; they probably got 'em."**

**"Yeah. I might just do that. Are you sure they have alotta color options? Because I don't wanna get something that would look totally tacky on me." And there was my window. Cue the Lopez charm.**

**"Well I'm sure you could wear any color, even a ridiculous one like jade green and still look hot," I said, turning to face her completely. Not my best line, I know but I could tell that I worked from the way that her eyes lit up and small smile appeared on her face. It was then when I realized how pretty she really was with her hair pulled up in a loose pony tail, no makeup and a thin layer of sweat on her face, neck and cleavage. Yup. She was definitely someone I wouldn't mind taking home with me.**

**"So, you think I'm hot?" she asked, playing with the end of her ponytail. Girl Flirting 101: when a girl is actively flirting, she either plays with her hair, bats her eyes, or both. The latter is a bit cliché nowadays but the former has definitely but proven true by trial and error so I dove right in with the full on Lopez charm. "Yeah. Definitely. Not even the marvelous glow of the autumn leaves can hold a candle to how naturally gorgeous you are." Hell yeah. I'm poetic. It sorta developed during my angst filled, sexually repressed, heartbroken point in my teenage life. I spent many a night tucked away in my room for hours writing poetry that ranged from 'I hate my life and I wish I could disappear' to 'I can't imagine a day without your lips gently caressing my own'. But after graduation and Brittany (the source of my love pain) moved to California to be a dancer and I moved to New York to go to Colombia, I used my newfound interest in poetry to pick up women. They absolutely love all that shit and surprise surprise; it works every time. "I bet you use that line a lot," she said, sliding closer until our hips and thighs were touching. Even with the slight fall breeze, my legs felt like fire when her skin met mine. Now all I had to do was get us both naked and then we'd be getting somewhere. "Not really. It's the first time actually. How's it working?"**

**"Decent."**

**"Decent enough for you to give me your name and number so I can call you sometime?" She looked at the water in her hands, probably mulling it over or whatever shit girls always seem to think about to make people anxious. Eventually, she looked up at me with (wait for the cliché…wait for it…) sexy, big brown eyes (there it is) that were so dark under the light of the sun that they were almost onyx. "Yeah sure. Why not?" she said, reaching in her pocket and fishing out her cell. "Give me your phone." I reached into my pocket and when she handed me hers, I handed her mine. I typed in my cell number and watched and waited as she quickly did the same. Then we traded back. "There you go," she said, peering down at the recent contact in her phone, "Santana."**

**"Thanks," I looked at the new name in my contacts, "Rebecca. That's cute." She smiled and got up from the bench and stood in front of me.**

**"I look forward to the call, Santana."**

**"Count on it."**

What was the point of that little tale? Well not only did I get her name and number that day but I also got a dinner date and some very steamy sex the following night. Long story short: running through the park has proven to be very beneficial to my sex life. Since then I've met, went out and had sex with four girls I met in Central Park. Let's go down the list. First, there was Sage: the biker chick lesbian from Montana. She was watching one of those random street painters when we made eye contact. The next thing I knew, she was fucking the hell out of me in the back of my car after our **very** short dinner date. Probably should've called her back for a second helping. Oh well.

Second, there was Olivia: the 19 year old Colombian lesbian. She was resting by the fountain during her lunch break or something. She said "Hola". Then I said, "Hola. ¿Cómo estás sexy?" and all I had to do was speak a little dirty to her in Spanish and her panties practically fell off.

Third, there was Erica: the voluptuous, bisexual blonde. What the fuck is it with blondes being bisexual? But I digress. She was apparently new to the whole bisexual thing so I was more than willing to show her that women are much better than men at pretty much everything. Sex especially.

And finally, there was Emily. Oh Emily. The adorable 18 year old questioning straight girl who I happily corrupted by convincing her that sex was the only way to find out if you're gay or not. Not complete bullshit but not the truth either. But hey, it worked and I'm pretty sure she's a lesbian now so all-in-all, I helped her so mission accomplished.

So today, I'm pretty much hoping for the same result to help me get over that disaster that was Carla. All the shit with her made me realize picking up chicks in the club isn't the best way. I barely knew a thing about her because with all the alcohol induced sexy dancing we did at the club, we never actually had time to talk before we were fucking back at my apartment. Not much conversation there. At least when I meet girls in the park, I actually talk to them and get to know them a bit **before** I sleep with them. Hey see. I'm not completely a cold-hearted, womanizing bitch. Anymore at least.

It's a bit chillier than I was expecting when I first ran out (well it is February in New York so I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking when I ran out of my damn apartment without a fucking jacket on). So basically, I'm fucking freezing in my little shirt and shorts in the middle of Central Park. **Excelente**. But the Lord somewhere up above has made it so that my normal water bottle vender guy is now a hot chocolate guy. Gracias al Señor. I run up to him and he immediately pours a seemingly piping hot cup of hot chocolate, puts a lid and a sleeve on it before handing it to me. I take it eagerly. "You do realize that it's February in New York," the big black man asks, laughing at me practically inhaling the piping hot liquid. God that feels** so** good. "So what got you out here almost naked, girl?"

"I…I…I got di…di…distracted," I shivered.

"Hard to keep focused when kicking another pretty but loose girl from your apartment, huh?" I look up from my cup at him with what anyone could interpret as a **'what the fuck'** face. "Oh don't look at me like that, Santana. I've known you for two years now and I know you have bad habit of hooking up with girls you tend to pick up here."

"What? I like sex," I say, nonchalantly.

"That may be true. But not once. Not once have I ever seen you with the same girl twice."

"Well I like sex with a lot of different people."

"I know you're better than this Santana." Oh God. Is he seriously trying to judge me right now? Mr. Hot chocolate vender man is judging me on my life choices? Oh this is rich.

"Look, I know you think you know me and you may think that I'm better than fucking girls until they scream my name and kicking them out on their asses before the sun comes up but really, I'm not. I have absolutely no problem with the way I live and why be better or do better when I'm happy just the way I am?" I challenge.

"No you're not."

"How the fuck do you know what I am and what I'm not?"

"Because I can see it in your eyes." Cliché much. "I hear you saying that you're okay with the way that you live and all I see in your eyes is anger and pain," What the hell? Pain? "So don't beat the shit out of me or anything for doing this but I have to ask. Who was it that broke you so badly that you've convinced yourself that you don't need to love? Or be loved?" I can feel the anger, the disgust, the hurt, the everything building up inside of me and I hate it. The rage is slowly taking control over me and I hate not being in control. "No one fucking broke me," I start releasing my rage from its leash and letting it consume me. "There's nothing about me that needs to be fixed," I spit back with the red hot intensity almost enough to warm my entire body.

"Then why, Santana? Why go about going from girl after girl after girl after girl after,"

**"BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING BETTER THAN BEING ALONE, CALVIN!"** He takes a step back and I can see that he's scared shitless. Which is surprising I can see him at all considering my vision is kinda clouded by the darkness running fast through my veins. I wish someone can see us now. This small, half naked, shivering Latina posting up against a big black guy. When he doesn't speak, I continue. "Because I'd rather feel pleasure than nothing at all. I felt nothing for so long that it's good to feel again."

"Who or what made you feel nothing? Or better yet; like you are nothing? What made you so jaded?"

**"NO ONE, GODDAMMIT!** Calvin, no one did a goddamn thing to me to make me feel like this. Like I did. But I just did. But I don't now so just stand back, serve your whack ass hot chocolate, shut the fuck up and stay out of my fucking private life because it's none of your fucking business. Got it?" He initially shakes his head but then concedes and nods. "Good. Now you have a very nice fucking day, Calvin," I say snidely, turning to jog far away from this impromptu therapy session.

"You too, Miss Lopez. You too." I hear him say softly. His words are dripping with disappointment and while most people should feel guilt or have some life changing revelation or some shit like that but, as usual, I feel nothing. Not the biting wind against my face, torso and legs. Not the burning rage that has enveloped my body not just a minute ago. Nothing. The same nothing I feel every night when I go to sleep. The same nothing I feel when I have sex with girl after girl after girl. The exact same nothing I feel when I kick each and everything one of them out of my place in the morning. Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

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><p><strong>Rachel POV<strong>

What the hell does one even wear to a jazz club anyway? And in Brooklyn? I have different outfits for the opera, the theatre, cocktail parties and even some for the regular club but a jazz club? Why did I even agree to this? "What the hell? Did Macy's throw up in here?" I turn around and find Becka standing at my bedroom door staring at the very large amount of clothing thrown haphazardly about my bed, floor and closet. Told you I couldn't think of a thing to wear.

"What does one wear to this jazz club you and Caroline insist on taking me to?" I ask, returning to sift through the pile of dresses in the closet floor.

"Something nice," she says. Really? I hadn't thought of that, smart ass. My face must being saying just that because she adds, "And not a 'night at the theatre' nice. More like '1st date' nice. A sexy dress or skirt, nice heels, modest jewelry,"

"Got it." Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the perfect dress hanging in my closet. The only one still hanging up actually. "So how'd you hear about this place anyway?" I ask from behind my closet door, while trying to put on the dress.

"Well…uh…a…**friend**, yeah a friend, from some time ago told me about it." I can't help but hear the uneasiness in her voice when she says friend. Definitely gonna have to ask about that one later. But for right now, I'm just gonna go with the "friend" story. "She said that it was the best jazz club in New York." So it's a she, huh? "Not sure how she knew that but when I went there to check it out last weekend,"

"The weekend I was editing the script," I interrupt, thinking back to that almost "lost weekend" that consisted of me, my script and a bottle of moderately tasting Chardonnay.

"Yeah well, I went there and the atmosphere was so relaxing and music was so good that I guess she was sorta right. So now I pass this knowledge onto you, oh stressed out one." Finished. And I definitely think I picked the right dress. I can't really tell how it looks on me but it does feel nice.

"What do you think about this one?" I ask stepping out from behind my closet door to reveal the scandalously short, dangerously tight, black single strap cocktail dress.

"That, oh stressed out one, is **THE** dress," she says, placing her hands on my bare shoulders and turning me to face the mirror. Well damn. I know I felt good in this dress but I didn't know I** looked** this good. Why haven't I worn this dress out before? I've only had it for like a month and it still has the tags on it. Why haven't I been out…oh yeah. The musical.

Taking in all that the dress accentuated, I just barely miss Becka checking out my ass in the mirror. Oy vey, are all my roommates gay? Or at least not completely straight? "You know, with all that Caroline says and the way that you're looking at my ass right now, it's hard to believe that only me and Gavin are gay," I say, turning around to draw her attention from my ass. She takes longer than expected to return her gaze to my eye level but when she does, of course she has a creeper grin across her face.

"Hey, calm your tits woman," she says crossing her arms across her chest, "I'm not gay so I'm not gonna jump you or anything." Wasn't thinking that at all.

"Okay. I believe you." Not really. "For now. Now get out of my room so I can get out of this dress."

"Okay sexy mama," she says walking over to the door. "We're leaving at 7 so be ready by then."

"Alright." She winks at me before exiting my room. I'm seriously starting to believe that the theory that says that all people involved in musical theater are gay applies to women as well. Either that or my gaydar selected my roommates for me instead of my common sense. Turning around again, I get a better look at the dress and Becka is right. It's not too fancy but not too casual. The short length shows off my dancer's legs. The single shoulder strap shows off my toned arms and shoulders. The tight fit shows of my curves and pushes up the little cleavage that I have. All-in-all; I look pretty damn sexy. What time is it now? About 5. Which means I have two hours to take a shower, dry my hair, get dressed and do my makeup.

###

Shower? Finished. Hair? Dried and flat ironed. Dress? Put on. Heels? Found, put on and destined to turn every possible head. Now time for makeup. Looking into the mirror, I can actually see the dark circles under eyes. Maybe Caroline and Becka are right. I do need a break. I've been working on this play since the summer after junior year and since the New Year, I've been busting my butt to cast, direct, and put on the whole thing. Who knew that directing would be so much work? Why Artie wants to do this as a career, I will never know. And I definitely have a greater respect for the expertise of Stephen Spielberg. But anyway, maybe going out will help to clear my head and calm my nerves. And if I'm lucky, maybe I'll find a girl to play my leading lady. In the play, of course. If not, at least I can drink away my anxiety to the tender whine of the saxophone.

###

When we pull into the parking lot across from the club at around 7:45, I look out of Caroline's red Camry window at the very well lit club. Well, more specifically, the Blue Mic Club. Why the hell would someone name a club that? It isn't until we get inside that I find out why. It's a nice little club. Dim lighting. Small rectangular dance floor in front of the stage. Tables scattered all about. Bar to the right of the entrance. Stage in the back right corner. Quaint yet somewhat cozy. "So? What do you think?" Caroline asks me as the three of us sit at a small table near the dance floor.

"It's nice," I say, still trying to take in all the sights, sounds and smells around me. The sight of all the people dressed formally wandering about between the bar, the entrance and the tables. The sound of the band softly playing from the stage, setting the mood with the low rumble of the drums, the soft whine of the saxophone and the melodic tune of the keyboard. The smell of wine and other spirits cascading around the entire place, filling my lungs with their strong scent. As cliché as it is, I will still say that the entire place is incredibly intoxicating. I can definitely see myself hanging out in a place like this from time to time.

"Just nice?" Becka says, looking at me curiously.

"Yes. It's nice," I repeat. "I'm not sure I would say that it's the best jazz club in **ALL** of New York but based on the atmosphere alone, it's certainly in the top 5."

"Oh is that so?" I nod. "Oh. Okay. Well then just wait until you get a taste of the best wine ever and listen to the best jazz music since Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald." She then raises her hand to signal one of the waiters to come to our table.

"I'll believe when I taste it." I don't doubt that the wine here is pretty good because just about everyone here has some type in their wine glasses but 'the best jazz music since Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald'? I highly doubt that. But hey, maybe close enough is good enough to be enjoyable. "I heard that there's this sexy ass chick that sings on nights and weekends who has a body to kill for and a voice that is not only good enough to be a gift from the heavens but sultry enough to turn any and everyone on." Oh Caroline. Always the one to make me question your sexuality.

"Oh and where did you hear this bit of information that you seem so interested in finding out?" I ask, looking at the stage as the band stops playing and two men come to place a single wooden stool in the center of the stage.

"Rachel, sweetheart, I'm a music major," I roll my eyes at her sarcastic tone, "who also happens to be in charge of finding talent for your musical. So naturally I look around and keep my ears open."

"So that's why we're here?" Oh ulterior motives.

"Well…"

"Hello ladies. How can I help you?" We all look up to find a tall, dirty blonde male waiter standing in front of our table. Despite the goatee, he sort of looks like an older version of Sam Evans but I'm pretty sure I know everyone from McKinley High that's in New York so that's not possible.

"Yes, you can," Becka says taking the lead. "Can you get us a bottle of Chardonnay, three glasses and a plate of your fresh vegan breadsticks?" He quickly scribbles down our order on his pad.

**"Okay. Got it. Will that be all?"** he asks looking between the three of us.

"Yes. Thank you," Caroline says.

"Well alright. I'll be right back with your drinks and it'll take a few minutes for the breadsticks," We all nod in understanding. We do want them fresh, right? "If you need anything else, my name is Kevin," not Sam Evans (told you I know everybody in New York from McKinley), "so just give me a yell."

"Thank you Kevin," we all say simultaneously. He nods, puts his pad in his pocket then walks away towards the bar. Once he's out of earshot, I simply say, "He's cute."

"And why should you care? You're gay now," Becka says.

"Not for me." **Duh.** "For one of you," I correct while taking notice to the small middle aged, Italian looking man approaching the mic and the bunches of people finding tables to sit at.

"He's a little too tall for me," Caroline says.

"He's a little too white for me," Becka adds. Oh my friends. Why I have them, I have no idea.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the Blue Mic club." We turn in our seats to face the stage and give the man our undivided attention. "As some of you all know, I'm Carmine," (told you. Italian), "your MC for the night. I see some familiar faces in the audience tonight and some lovely new faces," he says, looking right at us. Oh and perfect timing Kevin who just arrived with our drinks. He sets the bottle on the table and places a wine glass in front of each of us. "Thank you," I say as he walks away. He turns around, nods then walks away. Not a very talkative one. Unlike the man on stage who's been going off on a joke that I'm pretty sure most people have already checked out on. I'll take this time to fill my glass and really get this little adventure started. "Well enough of my ramblings."

"Finally," I mumble, taking the first sip of the so-called "best wine ever" and **dear Lord,** Becka is so right. Even if this place isn't 5 Star, they sure have 5 Star taste in wine. "Well we have some great talents tonight that I know you're gonna absolutely love but first up to start us off, the lovely lady of Blue Mic and my second daughter, Sanita." He then quickly leaves the stage. The audience starts to clap (which I immediately join in on), the lights dim and a spotlight appears center stage; set on the lone stool, the mic stand and the apparently famous bright blue microphone.

The band starts to play and I immediately recognize the tune as that of Amy Winehouse's (R.I.P) "Back to Black". Now that's a throw back if I ever heard one. I think that last time I heard someone sing that was back in junior year in high school. Santana Lopez. She was auditioning for a solo for Nationals and with the combination of her raspy voice and sensual stage performance, I even thought (just for a second) that she would get the solo over me. But in the end, neither of us got a solo thanks to Mr. Schue and his damn "let's work as a team" crap which in the end did sort of work for us. Sort of. But I'm going off on tangent here. Back to the stage.

As the band continues to play the intro, out saunters one of the sexiest bodies I've ever had the fortune to see. Like seriously a perfect testament to the female form and I haven't even seen her face yet. She has it bowed and facing the band bobbing to the beat but if the front is half as good as the side I'm seeing right now, tonight might not be as much of a complete waste as I thought. The mystery woman is a light caramel color with long black hair pushed over one shoulder and is dressed in a simple red strapless dress that stops just above mid thigh and is almost criminally tight. Like I can almost map out every muscle in her body as she sways to the rhythm of the music. She has on a pair of black 4 inch peep toe stilettos and I would kill for calf muscles like hers. And don't get me started on her ass. And… okay, I feel like a bit of a creep checking out this anonymous woman's ass but what an ass to check out.

The band lowers their volume slightly and as the woman starts the opening verse, she turns to face the crowd.

_He left no time to regret._

_Kept his lips wet._

**HOLY SHIT.** It can't be. Not here. Not now. Not in New York. I must be dreaming. I know everything about everyone and this can't be possible. What the hell kind of witchcraft is this? "Oh what the hell?" I hear Becka say to the right. I whip my head around and I swear her face has the same shocked expression I have.

"What?" Caroline asks, taking the very word right out of my mouth.

"That's the," she puts up air quotes, "**'friend'** I was talking about earlier," Becka whispers.

"The one who told you about this place?" I ask before returning my gaze to increasing familiar sounding and looking woman on stage giving Amy Winehouse a run for her money.

"Well yeah but she's also the friend the park."

"What park?" I ask, never tearing my eyes away from the stage, unconsciously hypnotized by the way the singer moved fluidly about the stage.

"Holy crap! Is she the one that picked you up at the park, wined and dined you, got you to have sex with her and then kicked you out of her apartment before the sun came up? That **'friend'**? Carolina asks. That got my attention.

"Wait what? You had sex with a **girl**?" I almost yell but remember that we are in a public place and in the middle of someone's performance. In response, Becka just bows her head and nods. What the fucking hell? Have I been so caught up with writing my damn musical that I've completely missed out on the several major plot developments within the lives of my real life friends? "Omigod, when did this happen?" I whisper.

"A while ago. Like October or something," she answers. What the hell was I doing in October to distract from the fact that one of my apparently straight roommates hooked up with a girl who I'm increasing starting recognize. "She was so hot and charming." I understand. "She was so sweet and nice." That, I don't so much understand. "And I was experimenting. So one thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was out on my ass outside her apartment in my underwear." Okay, that's kinda mean. Looking up at the woman hypnotizing the audience with the way that she powers through the song with little effort at all, I hope to God that Becka is mistaken about which woman was which. I mean, my old high school rival was a bitch but she wasn't that cold-hearted and disrespectful. Well, most of the time. Me, Finn, and Mr. Schue sort of got special hate. So to clarify, I ask, "Do you happen to remember this girl's name?" I cross my fingers and silently pray that she doesn't say…

"Santana. Santana Lopez." **Shit.**

"So you're saying that that woman," I point to the stage, "right there is named Santana Lopez?" She nods. "And she's the 'friend' who charmed you right into your bed?"

"Yeah, Rach. Haven't we been through this? Keep up," Caroline throws in her two cents and I toss back my best "shut the hell up" glare. I redirect my attention to the darker girl who has sorta slumped back in her seat a bit and is just lazily swirling her wine around in her glass.

"Don't sound so disappointed in me," she says, softly. A bit too softly and that's when I realize how my statement must of sounded to her. "Charmed you right into her bed"? I made it sound like she was just some gullible, sexually confused girl who got seduced by a succubus. Holy crap. Maybe that's what I need for my musical?

But right now, I have to deal with my friend. "Honey, I'm not disappointed in you," I say, reaching across the table and taking her free hand in both of mine. "I cannot tell you how to live your life and who to live it with."

"Oh thanks," she scoffs.

"No sweetie, I'm just sorta disappointed in her, is all."

"Why, you know her?"

"Back story required. Please fill in the blanks," Caroline chimes in. Before I can answer, I notice the woman, who I now can accurately identify as the older version of Santana Lopez leaving the stage and approaching our table. I look back at my friends to find any reason to not look the seductress in the eye but they are so entranced by her movements that I'm almost forced to meet her gaze and when her eyes grow large for a split second, I'm pretty sure she can recognize me. But if she does, she doesn't seem to care because her eyes narrow and I finally understand what it feels like to be preyed upon. That way that she's slinking over to our table, eyes linked with mine, is reminiscent of that of a snake in the sand. So beautiful and captivating but from past experience, deadly. I see how Becka could have fallen for into her arms. The Santana Lopez I knew was hot, talented, smart and so, so strong-willed. But she was also manipulative, blunt, vindictive, possessive and very capable of flirting her way out of any and everything. Now the woman I see circling me with her free hand sliding on the back of my chair, she is downright alluring. And I can't tear my eyes away. I know I shouldn't want to but I really need to talk to her after this. I need to know what's she's been up and what's she doing in New York and… Oh God, it's really hard to think when she's walking around, looking at me like that. I can't tell if it's just for the performance or lust but some part of me hopes that it's the latter. But doesn't the king cobra make eye contact with its prey before it strikes? Do I wanna take the risk and be like Becka? Bitten and forgotten?

* * *

><p><strong>So there you have it. I'm finishing this at 3 am so I might have missed some typos or whatever. All mistakes are my own. <strong>

**So, Why is Santana so jaded? What happened to her in the last four years? Plus, Rachel sees Santana for the first time in four years and both seem pretty interested in the other. Does Santana recognize Rachel? Is she just flirting for the performance or is she really attracted to the older Rachel? Will Rachel talk to her and take the risk of being "bitten"? Shot me a review and we'll see. **

**Till next time. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Gang! Don't worry, I didn't abandon or forget about this or ToD. I got sort of distracted by Pezberry week (which was hella fun) and college (as always) is a pain and being a senior, I have a lot to do and prepare for. But fear not, the girls are back and things are heating up. I divided this chapter into two so the real Pezberry interaction will happen in the next chapter; which I will post tomorrow or Sunday. I'd also like to thank everyone for all the alerts, favorites, and reviews. Also, for being patient with me and still following this story. You guys keep me writing and inspire me to write better. It might take a while for the girls to get together seriously but there will be some fun bumps and twists along the way to keep you reading. One more thing, would anyone like to read the staging of the musical or not? I'm working out the plot of Rachel's musical and if no one wants to read about it, then I won't and just say the play happened. Let me know. **

**Okay, enough of my rantings. On with the story. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Blue Mic Club, Kevin Bryant and Carmine. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Santana POV

When I woke this morning and had to fight to get that damn needy girl out of my apartment like I do most mornings, I didn't expect to be bitched at by my best friend and the fucking water/hot chocolate guy (of all people). I mean, what the fuck is that about? Like sure, discarding girls like yesterday's newspapers is sort of insensitive but I've been doing it for years now. So why now is it a problem? It's not like I'm a bad person. I've never killed anyone. I rarely get into fights. I do volunteer work. I'm nice to people. Who I like. Most of the time. So why bitch at me for hurting a few loose girl's feelings?

Oh but wait, the day just got worst after my run in with Calvin. So after all that shit, I nearly got hypothermia running in the fucking cold almost naked. My iPod decided that it wanted to join me in the shower. My father called me bitching about how I was losing focus with my life (like that wasn't obvious when I dropped out of Colombia after a year?) Our landlord stopped by because he had gotten some complaints about the noise this morning. I calmly informed him that it was simply a lover's quarrel between exes. He bought it (like he wouldn't?). Oh and let's not forget that little cunt Carla decided to spray paint (where she got it, I have no idea) 'BITCH' on the side of my pretty good condition 2008 Ford Focus. It's not the first time someone has spray painted my car (I tend to piss people off. A lot) and it probably won't be the last but it still sucked because cleaning off the fucker took 30 minutes off of my usual schedule and I hate random things interrupting my daily routine. After cleaning all the shit off, my boss from the Blue Mic Club called to tell me that I'd be working from 5 to 12 as opposed to 6 to 10. He said he extended my hours because of some shit about critic coming and wanting to showcase his best talent or something. But whatever. More money, right?

I get to the club around 4:30 or so and after saying hey to all my coworkers, crash in my dressing room. I'm not supposed to go on until 8 so for the time being, I am just an extra hand where I'm needed. Man, I hate grunt work. I love singing and performing but all the shit they have me doing before and after I perform is just ridiculous. But when I'm a famous soul and R&B singer, they will all probably work for me so for now, gotta do the hard work now to make it to the top later. But right now, my couch looks very welcoming. Just as I take a step towards the black loveseat calling my name, I hear someone call me too. _"Santana,"_ I freeze dramatically with one foot in the air._ "Don't you even think about putting your ass print in that couch. I need you." _Still one on foot, I shift to turn and face my intruder.

_"Hey Kev,"_ I say to my blonde haired older roommate. Well both my roommates are older than me but Kevin, at the tender age of 29 is older than both me and Luis. The Pratt Institute grad sort of looks like an older version of Trouty mouth but more indie rock; less football quarterback. He's been friends with Luis since they were little and they started the band that I am currently the lead vocalist in. He's pretty kickass on the guitar and I'm actually surprised he's stayed with us so long because I'm sure he could go out on his own and tear up the music industry. So I'm gonna enjoy every minute I have with him. Well, not now because he's kind of interrupting my nap time._ "Ugh, what do you want from me?"_ I ask with a groan. What's the point of trying to fake like I want to work when I really don't?

_"Carmine told me that you don't go on till 8 and I need help with the tables so..."_

_"So naturally you assumed I wanted to help your pathetic ass?"_ I say with a raised eyebrow.

_"So that's a yes?"_ he says with a cocky little smirk. I taught him that. Only I'm allowed to do that.

_"How many people are out there and are you by yourself?"_

_"Six tables of regulars with on average, 3 people at each. And yes; I am by myself because Lawrence is sick and Hannah is working the bar because Nelson's girlfriend went into labor before he came to work."_ **Dammit.**

_"So I really have no choice do I?"_

_"Not really Lopez."_

_"Well then Bryant, get the hell out of my dressing room so I can change into that monkey suit you call a waiter's outfit," I_ really hate that outfit. It's like a black collared shirt with some light blue bow tie thing and for the girls, a light blue skirt instead of black pants like the guys. And to top off the hideous ensemble, I have to wear a stupid black waist apron with a big ass blue mic on the front of it. Like seriously, who designed this shit and who said that it looked ok?

_"You really need to cut all that hostility, Lopez. Maybe try having real feelings for once,"_ Kevin says instead of leaving like instructed.

_"What the hell do you mean by that?"_ I snap back. I really need to stop that.

_"I mean that I think why you're such a bitch all the time. You're a bitch because,"_ oh no.

_"If you say that it's because I'm angry and I have all these feelings that I'm afraid of dealing with, I'd like to inform you that that ship has sailed and is happily coasting in the high seas of pussyville."_

_"Wow. Just wow. I thought Luis was bad but you are just a terrible."_ Great, now Kevin wants to lecture me? Do I have a sign on my face that says 'Confront Santana about her life choices'?

_"Just stop," I warn. "I don't wanna hear it."_

_"Well you're gonna have to eventually. You haven't been right since she left you."_

**_"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_** I don't even care who hears me at the this point. Today is not my day and Kevin just had to mention **her**. Normally when I lashed out at someone, they cowered in fear and fled the scene. But not Kevin. He looks at me as a messed up little sister and no matter how angry or Satanic I get, he doesn't back down. He just shakes his head and stands his ground. The blonder haired fucker._ "No,"_ he says calmly, arms crossed and eyes fixed on me. _"But I won't push it because we have work to do but we will talk. And we will discuss her."_

_"The hell we will!"_

_"Oh yes we will. But now. Work. Move it."_ He then quickly leaves my dressing room and closes the door behind him. Fuck my life.

#####

So for the last three hours I have busing tables in this ridiculous waitress outfit, taking drink and food orders, listening to subpar musical acts and avoiding the drunk advances of creepy old guys. I mean really, what lightweight gets drunk before 8 o'clock? Like seriously, I can start drinking at 5 and not be truly wasted till like 2 in the morning. These guys started at like 6 and were gone by like 7. Pathetic.

I'm about to start another round of wine refills when Kevin nods at me to inform me that it's time to start getting ready for my first performance of the night. I put down the tray I'm carrying on the bar and head back to my dressing room to make my transformation from lowly waitress to sexy songstress. Doesn't take that much because even in this stupid waitress outfit, I'm still hotter than pretty much everybody here so all it takes is a nice short, tight red dress, some more make-up, a pair of black heels that make my already amazing ass look out of this world and little hair treatment. All-in-all, the transformation process takes about 45 minutes, giving me 15 minutes to hang out and scan the crowd for potential victims. By victims, I mean those in the audience who will fall prey my performance flirting. Whichever one stares the most, I mess with the most and they leave the best tips. Sounds like a stripper but hey, a girl's gotta make and living and at least my clothes stay on.

So far, I just see the usual suspects who give the usual nothing for tips. Assholes. But wait a second. Is that? It can't be. I look towards the door and spot 3 girls searching for a table. The one in the middle is smaller than the other two, brunette with legs to die for and I couldn't make out her face until they walk towards the front and HOLY SWEET HELL, it's Rachel. Like Rachel Mothefuckin' Berry. Here. Right now. In my workplace. I can definitely chalk this day up to being the weirdest, most random, most interesting day in my life. Like seriously, what is my luck that Rachel Berry, bane of my existence in high school would appear in the very club I work in? The trio walk to a table closest to the dance floor and stage and I finally get real look at her. A few years older. Definitely a much better dresser because the Rachel Berry I used to know would never wear such a short black dress. The Rachel Berry I used to know was stuck in the woods somewhere when it came to her fashion. But watching this woman taking a seat in front of the stage, though different, is Rachel Berry all the same. I may forget names but I never forget faces. Now I knew she was in New York. I mean I did have to attend her "I got into NYU which is the first step towards accomplishing my Broadway dreams" party. But when I came to New York, I had hoped that, with New York being such huge ass state that it is I wouldn't ever have to see or hear from her. But since life is an obnoxious jackass who likes to poke fun at me and make my life more difficult than it needs to be around every turn that it wants.

So here I am backstage, listening to Carmine make his usual speech and desperately trying to make people laugh with his lame ass jokes_. "Well enough of my ramblings."_ Finally. I take a quick look at myself in the backstage mirror and one more look at Rachel casually talking with her friends and sipping on the Blue Mic's specialty wine. Of course Rachel would be a wine kind of girl. But whatever. I think that if the universe is going to play with me, I'm going to have a little fun with the situation._ "Well we have some great talents tonight that I know you're gonna absolutely love but first up to start us off, the lovely lady of Blue Mic and my second daughter, Sanita."_ Sanita. Why must he insist on calling me that? Like seriously. Luis called me that one to make fun of me and the next thing I knew, it was my stage name. It's not too bad but it's just really close to the name that **she** used to call me and it sends a wave of discomfort through my entire body and I don't like that feeling. But… oh shit, Carmine just left the stage. That's my queue. Show time. Rachel Berry, are you in for a surprise.

The audience starts to clap, the lights dim and a spotlight appears center stage, set on the lone stool, the mic stand and the apparently famous bright blue microphone. As the band starts to play, I make my way to the stage slowly, sensually swaying to the beat with each step. My eyes are turned away from the crowd, so I'm not sure if Rachel is paying attention or not but I sure will make sure she is in just a few.

**_He left no time to regret_**

**_Kept his lips wet_**

I start one of my favorite songs of all times like I do every other night but this time, I sing a bit stronger. A bit more passionate. A bit more sensual. All for the captive audience that is presented in front of me. As I continue through the song, I can't help but notice that Rachel hasn't taken her eyes off of me. At first I thought it was just her usual judging, condensing stare but looking more intently, I see something in those dark brown eyes that I never thought I'd see coming from Rachel Berry. Lust. Like pure hooded eyes, deep stares, shallow breathes, instant panty dropping lust. And directed at me? Oh yeah. I'm so gonna have fun with this new development.

#####

So here I am now, looking sexy as hell in my red cocktail dress, singing my Latina heart out in an attempt to seduce the crowd and for some god forsaken reason, Rachel has decided to direct her attention elsewhere. Most specifically, her stupid girlfriends. Although, her black friend does look kind of familiar. But regardless, this is not okay. No me gusta. Time to reach in my bag of tricks (still not a stripper) and work my magic of Miss Berry. Let's see how much I can make her squirm, shall we?

**_You go back to her_**

**_ And I go back to…_**

The band drops the beat and slows the tempo with just the drums, guitar and piano playing.

**_Blaaaaack…_**

I grab the mic from the stand and take slow, seductive, borderline illegally sexy steps down the stairs on the side of the stage.

**_Blaaaaack…_**

Okay, like what the fuck? She hasn't torn her eyes off of her damn friends. They even seem to be having an incredibly heated conversation. Again, no me gusta. I think it's time amp this performance up and see how far I can push her little Berry buttons. So, I walk directly towards her.

**_Blaaaaack…_**

Her friends are the first to notice me. Then when she looks up, I'm right in her face and the look she gives me is priceless. Like, I can't tell if she's shocked, scared, confused, turned on or all four. Either way, I'm so not done yet because by the end of this number, I will have Rachel Berry in a puddle of her own drool.

**_Blaaaaack…_**

I walk around her chair; running my free hand along the back of her chair.

**_Blaaaaack…_**

I do the same to her friends and goddammit, why does her black friend look so fuckin' familiar?

**_Blaaaaack…_**

Oh this is too fun. When I get around the table back in front of Rachel, I was hoping to see her melting in her seat but was realistically expecting to see her all tense and flustered but for the first time today; the universe in on my side. Right now, I'm looking into a face with dark, hooded eyes under long lashes and a devilish smirk that I didn't know Berry was capable of. Well damn. And here I thought that I would be the predatory one but the look that she's giving me clearly has reversed the roles. Maybe I'm the prey and she's the predator…

Oh Hell No

I'm the one in control here. Not her. I'm the hunter. And if I want, she will be the hunted.

**_ Blaaaaack…_**

**_ I go back…_**

**_ I go back to…_**

As I finish the last line of the bridge, I lean down looking her straight into those chocolate brown eyes of hers and I'll be damned if she's not staring right into my cleavage. As the song draws to a close, I return to the stage to finish my performance and the ridiculously enticing turned-on look Rachel's been giving me, doesn't face until I leave the stage and disappear behind the curtains.

_"LOPEZ!"_ Shit. I turn around to greet my oh so sweet, oh so short, oh so quiet boss.

_"Hi Carmine," _I say as fake as possible. "_What can I help you with?"_ Not that I really care or want to or will do what he says.

_"How many times do I have to tell you to flirt with all of the guests? Not just the girls."_ I open my mouth to respond but of course, he's not finished. Goddamn motherfucker._ "Now I know that you're a raging lesbian who gets more girls in one week than half the male staff here gets in a year but we have male guests as well that would like to be entertained."_

_"You do realize that I'm not a stripper, right?_" He looks at me with that displeased look that is specifically Carmine

_"Just flirt with the girls AND the guys, okay?"_ He says walking away.

_"He's right, you know?"_

_"Hey Kevin," _my tall blonde roommate emerges from waiter's backstage entrance._ "And yeah I know but this time I have a reason for messing with those girls."_

_"Besides you being an oversexed girl with a seemingly insatiable libido?"_

_"Really? Why am I even living with you and Luis because you both suck,"_ I say, playfully pushing him by the shoulder. He laughs and rolls his eyes.

_"Whatever. So, if not your overactive libido, what was it that made you practically molest those girls?"_

_"Well remember me telling you about me being in the Glee club in high school?"_

_"Yeah. I laughed about it for weeks until you sang Adele at karaoke night and blew me away."_

_"Well duh. I'm fuckin' awesome but that's not the point. Anyway, remember when I told you about the crazy, overly ambitious, borderline psycho-stalker bitch who could sing us all up the wall?"_ Kevin furrows his eyebrows in what looks like confusion

_"Vaguely. Isn't she the same one who you had a crush on all of high sch…"_ I jumped forward and covered his mouth with my hands.

_"No. No. I told you to never speak of that dark time. I was experimenting with my feeling for girls and she wore those tiny skirts and she had those legs and those lips..."_

_"Lopez, come back. Your libido is showing again,"_ Kevin says through my fingers, which I just remembered is still on his face. I quickly remove them and try to remember what I was saying before I got lost in Berry's delights. _"Even though she had all those things, she also had that mouth of hers that drove me bat shit crazy."_

_"Okay, well what about her?"_

_"She's here,"_ I admit.

"_Really?"_ He rushes over to the side of the stage. Wow. I'm youngest of our little trio and yet Kevin and Luis are the ones that act like damn children. I walk up next to him and we both peer out around the curtain._ "Which one is she?"_ he whispers. I scan the crowd for the table with the three girls and stops when I spot them. Rachel is sitting languidly bobbing her head to the sounds of the saxophone, keyboard and guitar.

_"That one," _I say pointing._ "The small brunette."_

_"Damn. She's really cute."_

_"She's okay."_ Hey, just because I noticed that her fashion sense has improved over the last few years, doesn't mean that I'm going to say that she's actually cute.

_"If she's just okay, then why did you practically give her a lap dance?"_

_"Because she seemed interested in me. Like heart racing, eyes dilated, sweaty palms, wet in the pants turned on."_

_"So naturally, you decided to amp it up nad see how far you could push her until she was practically drooling?"_

_"Naturally,"_ I say with a smug grin.

"_But is she even into girls? Because last I checked, you always talked about some whalean boyfriend she had in high school that didn't deserve her."_

_"Well she wasn't the last time I saw her. But she did have some serious sexual tension with Q though."_

_"So you don't even know if she's_ _into girls but you still wanna sleep with her?"_ Um, what the fuck?

_"Um, no."_

_"Yes you do. I can see it in your eyes. You so want her," h_e says smirking. Smug bastard. I'm the only one who can use the smirk. Smirks are my thing.

"_I do not want to sleep with Rachel Berry."_

_"You can deny it all you want but you totally want her. Something tells me that your little crush from high school never left."_ I roll my eyes and step away from the curtain.

_"Oh whatever. Just go serve your fuckin' drinks and leave me the hell alone."_

_"Alright but trust and behold that if you go anywhere near that girl and catch up and shit , you will try to have sex with her."_

_"No I won't. Never going happen. No fuckin' way. We couldn't stand each other back in high school and I highly doubt that anything has hcanged. Besides, you don't know anything about her."_

_" But I know you. And yes you will. Every girl you know, you try to sleep with. It's kind of ridiculous." _Not this shit again. I was hoping this day of bitch was over but life a bigger bitch than I am.

_"Why is that?"_

_"Because you're a player Santana. You try to bang every hot thing with boobs and a vagina that comes anywhere near you."_

_"You are so full of shit Kevin. Just because I like to have sex with a lot of different girls, doesn't mean that I would ever try to fuck Rachel Berry."_

_"Sure you won't."_

_"Whatever you jackass. Just get outta of my face so I can relax before my next number,"_ I say, punching him hard in the arm.

_"OW!"_he practically yells._ "Goddammit Santana! That actually hurt." _Hell yeah it did._ "See, that's why you don't have a girlfriend. You're too damn aggressive."_ He then walks away, rubbing his injured limb. Poor grown baby. But what the hell does he know anyway? Just because I have sex with a lot of girls doesn't mean the I have sex with every girl I meet. I'm pretty damn selective and Rachel ugly sweaters Berry is not on my 'To-Fuck' list. Even if she does look pretty fuckable right now in that little dress.

God motherfucking dammit!

Lopez, stop thinking ridiculous shit like this!

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel POV<strong>

_"Well, somebody got a bit of a show tonight,"_ Caroline says with a smirk as we all prepare to leave the club. After Santana's uh...interesting performance, for the last ten minutes, Caroline and Becka have been badgering me about it.

_"What the hell are you talking about?"_ I ask searching through my purse for my wallet to leave our waiter Kevin a tip.

_"She's talking about the near lap dance you got from Santana," _Becka says, smirking as well.

_"Oh whatever. She was just flirting with the crowd to get us to stay. I do it all the time when I perform," _I argue.

_"But she wasn't flirting with the crowd. She was just flirting with you," Caroline says._

_"Your point?"_

_"Her point it that girl, I think Santana has a major thing for you," Becka says. _

_"I sincerely doubt it. We couldn't stand each other in high school. Okay well, maybe she couldn't stand me and I just had to suffer her never ceasing barrage of insults and comments about my wardrobe. And I can't tell you how many times she threatened me with physical harm or tried to go,"_ I put up air quotes, _" 'all Lima Heights on my ass'. Regardless, we were barely tolerable acquaintances when we graduated so I doubt she would take that leap from hate to like in two seconds. Besides, I don't even know if she even knew it was me."_

_"Rachel, we've seen you in your high school photos. You haven't changed that much,"_ Becka says laughing.

_"So she probably did. And she so wants you,"_ Caroline says.

_"And judging by the drool that was almost trailing down you face the whole time she was singing, I think that you kinda want her too."_ **The Hell**?

_"Uh no. Look, i'll admit that she is incredibly sexy and has always been. And yes iwas very much enticed by her vocal performance but i could never even think about going after her."_ They both look at each other, nod and then look back at me.

_"So what you're saying is that you think she's very much attractive, you were incredibly turned on by her performance and the only reason you won't consider going out with her is because of your shaky past together?_" Caroline tries to clarify.

_"Basically."_

_"But you haven't seen her in like 4 years, right?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"You didn't even know she was in New York, right?"_

_"I knew she applied to schools in Colombia but I assumed that when she and her girlfriend Brittany both got into UCLA, she would go there." Speaking of Brittany, are they still together? I don't remember hearing about a breakup and I'm still friends with Kurt and Mercedes._

_"So the only things you know about her are the way that she was in high school and..."_

_"The fact that she had sex with me and then threw me out on my ass."_

_"Let it go Becka."_ She scoffs, folds her arms and rolls her eyes simultaneously.

_"Anyway. My point is you don't know that much about this older Santana Lopez so how do you know she hasn't changed a bit?" _Is it possible that Santana has mellowed into a decent human being in the last 4 years? Is it possible that if we were to talk, i wouldn't be berated with a slew of nose, Jewish or clothing based slams? Is it possible that there is some type of romantic attraction between the two of us that could lead to a romantic relationship?

_"I sincerely doubt it," I_ say, _"So can you just let it go so we can go home and i can continue my search for the perfect Lucy?"_

_"Fine. We'll drop it."_ Becka concedes.

_"Yeah, we can drop it. For now."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Alrighty. There you have it. Up next: Pezberry meeting.<em>**

**_Like I said, the next chapter will come Saturday or Sunday. _**

**_So as always, don't forget to review because I love to hear for you guys. Later_**


	5. Chapter 5

**So as always, thanks for the all the reviews and alerts. I really appreciate it. Now for this one, I kept it one POV to keep things simple. But finally. After much anticipation... Pezberry meets! How will it go? Well let's see, shall we?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Rachel POV

Why is it that Caroline and Becka have convinced me to go back to the Blue Mic two weekends in a row following the first night? And now, Caroline has convinced me to go again tonight. I don't know why I keep going. I'm still a bit apprehensive about going again at risk of actually running into Santana. My curiosity has me wondering about what the Latina has been up to for the last 4 years has me wanting to talk to her. Past experience has me scared that if I do meet up with the Latina, that I will just cower in fear. My all too active sex drive has me scared that I will just skip the talking all together and just pounce on her. But to be totally honest, none are really things I'm in the mood for right now.

So dressed in a simple black pencil skirt, sleeveless white ruffled shirt and black stilettos, I meet Caroline at the club around the time of Santana's usual first set. _"So, you ready for another lap dance?"_ Caroline asks as we take a seat at the same table we had sat at the weekend before. Why can't she let that go? I glare at the blonde and proceed to ignore the question. _"Oh sure. Be quiet. That's fine. I take your silence as a yes. So do you think you will talk to Miss Lopez tonight?"_

_"Not really. I mean as much as I would love to converse with my former arch nemesis and probably turn back into that insecure little Rachel 'Manhands' Berry again, I think I will pass,"_ I say, turning to face the stage.

_"Okay. Whatever you say. But I have a feeling that something's going to happen tonight. I mean, why else come here again if you don't want to talk to her?"_

_"Well, she is still hot,"_ I say with a smirk.

_" 'Nuff said,"_ Caroline agrees as the lights dim and Carmine takes the stage.

#####

_"Near lap dance. Again. I should've bet money,"_ Caroline says, as we gather our things in preparation to leave. Okay, just to be clear, Santana did not give me a lap dance. She just sang and danced suggestively around me during two of her four songs. It's not like she actually danced on me or anything. Though, with that little blue number she had on, I wouldn't have been opposed to some physical contact. Not that I will admit it out loud though._ "If tonight proved anything, it proves that Santana so wants you."_ **Oy vey**. I roll my eyes and grab my purse and jacket from the back of my chair._ "Don't roll your eyes. You know I'm right."_

_"How many times do I have to tell you? Santana doesn't want me. Never has and never will."_ Like this whole thing is seriously getting old.

_"But if she did, then what then?"_

_"Nothing. Because no matter what you say, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez will never get together. So let's just go."_ Just when I turn to leave the club, I hear a strong, demanding, and oh so familiar voice._ "Rachel fucking Berry."_ **Shit.** I stop and look at Caroline who is looking past me smirking. Ass. _"Told you something was going to happen tonight,"_ Caroline whispers.

_"I hate you,"_ I mouth silently before turning to face the Latina. She's standing in front of me with arms cross her chest, sporting her yet to be patented smirk and I can't help but feel like that damn 15 year old girl in the animal sweaters and knee highs again. _"Yup I thought that was you,"_ Santana says looking me up and down, _"but with better fashion sense."_ Oh this is going to be fun.

_"Hello Santana,"_ I say. _"It's been a long time."_

_"Yeah. Almost 4 fucking years. I almost expected you to grow but,_" she slowly walks forward and stops right in front of me. So close that I can actually smell her. Cinnamon, vanilla and something I can't put my finger on. But whatever it is, it's intoxicating. _"still a hobbit."_ Well that feeling didn't last long.

_"And apparently, you're still a bitch,"_ I retaliate.

_"Woah. I didn't know that hobbits were allowed to use such language."_ Okay, wow. And here I was thinking that the Santana Lopez I dealt with in high school might have matured and changed for the better but no such luck. If anything, she's actually gotten worse. And to make things even more irritating, Caroline has decided to leave me in here by myself to deal with the wicked witch of the East coast. Why do I have my friends anyway? They are no help at all. Time to end this little exchange because I really don't have time for this. _"Okay, well I wish I could say it's been nice running into you after all these years but my dads always told me not to lie. So goodbye Santana. Have a nice life,"_ I say with all the snap that New York has given me in my time here. I turn to walk away but she grabs me by the arm. Oy vey. I really don't have time for this bullshit but I stop anyway.

_"Hey Berry look. I'm sorry, okay? Old habits die hard and all that shit."_ Did she just apologize? I didn't even know she was capable of doing that and even though I can't see her face, I can hear the sincerity in her voice. Plus, despite being the queen bitch, I do recall her having moments of kindness and remorse. Mostly towards one person but still. It was there. _"Can we take a step back and start over?"_ I turn around slowly, simultaneously escaping her hold and look into her eyes. I'm not sure what I'm looking for really. Mischief. Malice. Anything to make me feel threatened but despite the dangerously sexy dark brown eyes I find staring back at me, I don't feel in danger. At least not now._ "Fine,"_ I say sighing.

_"Wow. One word answers. Profanity. Looks like your wardrobe isn't the only thing that's changed. I guess New York has done some good for you Miss Rachel Berry,"_ she says with the smirk that I'm never sure is predatory or seductive.

"What do you want, Santana? My friend is waiting for me," I look around the club, _"somewhere."_ Where the hell did Caroline get to?

_"Well tell her to wait. I wanna catch up with my dear old hobbit friend,"_ she answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

_"I can't do that. Besides, we were never really friends."_ She puts a hand on her chest and leaned back slightly.

_"Ouch. Damn Berry. Low blow. I thought we had at least a little something back in the day. Maybe a mutual tolerance perhaps?"_

_"A mutual tolerance? Oh please. You call you making fun of my nose, my height, my hands, my clothes, my drive to success, stealing my boyfriend and the list continues, every fucking day a mutual tolerance? Clearly you have your wires crossed on that one,"_ I spit back and I can tell she wasn't expecting that. Sort of like the time I said that the only job she was cut out to do was be a stripper. But instead of leaving in a rush, this time she just stands in front of me and grins.

_"Okay then. Well what about senior year? We were almost friends then?"_

_"When?"_

_"West Side Story?"_

_"Being in the same musical doesn't make people friends. We were also in it with most of the football team and I definitely wasn't friends with them."_

_"Okay. How about singing 'I kissed a girl'?"_

_"I was being supportive of your coming out."_

_"Forced coming out by your old tree-like BF but I digress."_

_"Regardless, I was being supportive of a f…"_

_"Friend, perhaps?"_

_"A fellow team mate,"_ I correct.

_"Sure. What about Graduation? And Christmas?"_ **Excuse me?**

_"What about Christmas?"_

_"I gave Finnocence,"_ oddly I sort of missed her random, harsh yet oh so clever nicknames for people,_ "the gift idea for the earrings you got senior year."_ Wait, what? I'm pretty sure my eyes can't get any bigger right now. I thought he picked those out himself but I should have realized that a guy who needed another girl to pick out a corsage for his date and couldn't remember I was vegan if his life depended on it, wouldn't be able to pick out the exact earrings I wanted. But how did Santana know? _"What? You didn't know?"_ I shake my head. Of course I didn't know because I was too "in love" to notice what a douche my former lover was. _"Oh. Well I'm surprised you didn't figure it out. I mean, what guy could go from forgetting that you were vegan to buying exactly what you wanted for Christmas, huh? Told he was a douchebag."_ Was she in my mind? I wouldn't be surprised that in the past few years, she had sold her soul to the devil to have the ability to read people's minds.

Wait?

The devil?

Santana?

Maybe? Possibly?

_"Well Finnept aside, I figured that after all the shit we've gone through together with the rest of the Gleeks, we would've at least reached the point of casual friends,"_ she says, breaking me out of my thoughts. Casual friends? What the hell does that mean anyway?

_"What your angle here Santana?"_ Can't blame a girl for being cautious.

_"Goddammit Berry. Suspicious much? There's no angle. No ulterior motive. Just an old sort of friend asking you to have a drink to catch up."_ Doesn't sound too bad._ "Then you can go back to your whack ass blonde friend. Wherever the hell she went."_ And we're back.

_"My friend isn't whack."_

_"Like it matters. So? Just one drink?"_ I narrow my eyes and look into hers again. The same dangerous sensuality is present in them but despite the seemingly harsh words that always manage to escape those plump lips of hers, all I else I see is sincerity. I mean, I'm not in the biggest of moods to chat with her tonight but I am sort of curious as to how she managed to fall off the face of the earth for years and then practically landing on my doorstep. That all can be answered over one drink, right? _"Fine. One drink,"_ I say finally. Instead of answering, Santana just smirks devilishly and saunters over the bar. Well damn. What the hell did I just get myself into?

_"Yeah, what did you just get yourself into?"_ **Holy.** Did I just say that out loud?

_"Where the hell have you been?"_ I ask Caroline, turning around to face my deserter friend.

_"Calm yo tits woman,"_ she says calmly._ "I went to the bathroom after you got called back by Miss Sexy over there."_ I roll my eyes. _"So, what's the deal? What did you get yourself into?"_

_"Well I was going to tell you to go on without me because I'm going to stay a little longer."_

_"Oh I see. So you are going after **that**?"_ she asks, pointing at the bar where Santana is animatedly ordering drinks.

_"No. But she did ask me to share a drink with her."_

_"Oh really"_ she sing-songs.

_"Yes really. So I'm going to share that one drink, catch up and be done with it."_

_"Sure you will."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_ Caroline looks at me knowingly and grin. The problem, I don't know why she's grinning because I have no plans to have more than a drink with the Latina demoness.

Wait.

Demoness?

Maybe? Possibly. Could she maybe…

_"Okay. Whatever. Just call me when you're done. Maybe I'll find a Wal-Mart or something. Maybe some real food."_

_"You do that."_

_"I will. And you have fun getting your drink on. And don't do anything Becka wouldn't do."_

_"But she slept with her, you ass."_

_"True. Okay, don't do anything I wouldn't do."_

_"But you would totally sleep with her if given the chance."_

_"Once again, true. But have you seen her?"_ I can't even with this girl.

_"Just go. Please, go. Now."_

_"Okay, I got one. Don't do anything Kurt or Gavin wouldn't do."_

_"So don't have sex with her?"_

_"Exactly."_

_"Why do you think I would even try? What type of girl do you take me for?"_

_"The type of girl who practically wet herself and blushed every time we mentioned Santana these past few weeks._" Just to be clear here, I did not blush. My face may have flushed a bit thinking about the way her body moved around my chair. Or the way that she looked at me with those eyes that could both captivate and kill.

_"Whatev…"_

_"**BERRY!** Stop chatting it up with the person who already likes your tiny ass and come talk with someone who's still on the fence abouts ya!_" I cringe at the sound of her voice. Why can she make me feel like that insecure high school kid with just a statement? Well, that's not going to fly because I worked too hard to grow past **that **girl and into the strong, confident woman I am today. I will not let Santana Lopez, a demon from my past, come and tear all that down.

_"Stay nearby,"_ I say to Caroline._ "This should be quick."_

_"Gotcha. Good luck."_ She pats me on the shoulder, takes one last look at the Latina behind me then leaves the club. I sigh. This is going to be interesting.

I turn around slowly, mentally preparing myself for which look I may face on the Latina's face. Anger. Disgust. Irritation. 180 degrees around and I am so wrong. Actually, from the looks of it, it seems like she was checking out my ass because her eyes haven't left my waist and she just licked her lips. Well great. Now I feel like a mouse under that trained eye of a raven. This may be harder than I thought.

_"Santana, must you be rude to everyone?"_ I ask, walking over and standing in front of her at the bar. It takes a second or two for her gaze to rake up my body and stop at my eyes.

_"Not everyone, Berry,"_ she replies. _"Just you."_ I roll my eyes. It's like I'm dealing with a college freshman boy. But never the less, I pull out the empty bar stool next to her and sit down at the bar. _"Here you go,_" tall male bartender says, placing a green drink in front of me.

_"What this?"_I ask the girl next standing there with a sly grin next to me.

_"You take me as an appletini kind of chica. So…"_ I look at her curiously before picking up the glass and bringing it up to my lips. Although drinking it may be easier without her staring at me.

_"You're so lucky you're right."_

_"Babe, I'm always right. Like I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be right when I assume that you've switched teams since high school."_ I practically choke on my drink. I knew that Santana was never one to mince words or beat around the bush and was usually blunt but** damn.** Should I let her know? I mean, it's not like she'd not be okay with it. She is a lesbian herself so what's the harm?

_"Santana, what are you talking about?"_ Okay, so apparently my mind and my mouth don't agree on what to say and when to say it.

_"Oh please, Berry. Everything about you now screams lesbian. You're about as straight as a circle."_

_"Um, Santana, how does one 'scream lesbian'?"_ I question because really, is there a way someone can scream lesbian?

_"It's got to do with the simple fact that for the past three weekends, you've come here and sat in the front row and consciously or not, were checking me out and practically wetting yourself with arousal the entire time."_ She then walks around to the other side of the bar (for reasons I don't know) and leans over it in front of me and dear Lord. I see the rambunctious twins are still present. I'm trying not to look but dammit, they are just so right in my face. And so nice. And okay, one glance. Maybe she won't notice._ "See? Right there."_ **Damn.** _"Gay."_ She puts one elbow on the bar and rests the side of her face on her hand. _"Now what I want to know is why after all those years, with all those boys and all that time sniffing after Finnocence, you would cross the rainbow into lady lovin' land? That is, unless you straddle the rainbow?"_ Okay, really. Should I divulge such personal matters to a woman I haven't seen in almost 4 years? But I guess if I'm going to get something out of her, I'm going to have to open up about myself.

_"Well as you well know, I had exclusively male partners in high school,"_ I start before taking a sip of my drink, secretly hoping that the alcohol inside will calm me long enough to get through this.

_"Yeah. Sort of been through that already. What I wanna know is which side of the spectrum you're standing on? Are you teetering on the fence or are you a carpet muncher like me?"_

**_"Santana!"_** I chastise the girl. She just shrugs, turns around, grabs two shot glasses and sets them in front of me on the bar. She then reaches under the table, pulls out a bottle of Ciroc vodka, and pours the clear liquid in each of the shot glasses. After returning the bottle to its original spot, in less than 5 seconds, she downs both the shots. Holy. Crap. Should I have found that incredibly hot?_ "Anyway, despite your vulgarity, which I'm sure has increased over the years, I will entertain your question with an answer. If you must know,"_

_"I must."_

_"Well, since you **must **know, I'm gay."_

_"Since when?"_

_"Well after graduation, Finn and I tried to maintain a long distance relationship for about a year or so with him being in the army and me being here. But sometimes, distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder. It makes it grow more paranoid and resentful. So we broke up."_

_"Yeah I heard about that. Wheezy posted about it on facebook a while back." _So apparently she's kept in touch with some people? But why haven't I anything until now?

_"So after the breakup, I was pretty upset about it. That was until I met Terry."_

_"Oh? Who's Terry?"_ she leans back on the counter and there's the twins again. Okay. Focus. I was telling a story.

_"Well I met Terry in my first semester sophomore modern dance class. Tall, brunette dance major. We started talking because we were paired for a project. But even after we were done with the project, we still hung out. Hanging out turned into dating and dating turned into a two year relationship that ended when she graduated early and moved to California."_

_"Well that's unfortunate,"_ Santana mutters, words dripping in sarcasm.

_"Santana, is it at all possible for you to speak without sarcasm?"_

_"Probably not but with the right amount of alcohol, I'm sure I can be persuaded to try."_ She snaps her fingers at the bartender at the end of the bar. He excuses himself from the flirty blonde that had been engaging his attention for the duration of our conversation and walks down to us. _"Another round?"_ he asks, coldly.

_"Why the hell else would I be snapping my fingers at ya, Gerald?"_ Santana says as I watch the exchange from behind my martini glass. "So cut the back sass, get me 2 shots of tequila and another appletini of the sexy lady," she says with a wink. Did she just call me sexy? Like seriously, how can she be incredibly irritating one moment, then insanely sexy and charming the next? I think I probably should stop this little reunion at one drink like I planned but who can say no to a face like that? So the bartender nods and leaves to prepare the drinks. _"So newly hot short stack, you were telling a story or something?"_ And back to irritating.

_"Right. Well after Terry, I redirected my romantic interests to the fairer sex. I mean, I've always been attracted to girls and I even dabbled with the idea of me being bisexual but several girlfriends later, my interest in men as anything other than friends waned."_

_"Wow. Who would've guessed that after all this time, Rachel fucking Berry would be a big ol' lesbian like me? The universe has some damn sense of humor."_

_"Yeah. I guess it does,"_ I think aloud, taking a sip of my drink.

_"Hell yeah it does. How else do you explain us running into each other after all these years and you all brand new hotness and swinging for my team and me still gay and looking?"_

_"Um wha…"_ I start but am interrupted by the bartender Gerald returning to our spot at the bar with 2 shots of tequila in between his pointer finger and thumb in one hand and an appletini in the other.

_"Here you go ladies,"_ he says placing the glasses on the countertop in front of us.

_"Thank you very much,"_ I say kindly.

_"My pleasure. Hey, if this one,"_ he points to Santana with a tilt of the head, _"screws with ya, just holler down the bar and I'll be right over."_

_"Walk away Gerald,"_ Santana says, waving him off with her hand.

"Yeah_ whatever Satan. Just be nice to this one. I like her a lot more than the other girls you pick up here. She has manners,"_ he looks at the almost empty glass in my hand, _"and classy taste in drinks."_ I smile softly from the behind the glass at the compliment.

_"Walk away Gerald,"_ Santana repeats, shooting the much bigger man her best 'go the fuck away' glare. Though not outwardly unnerved, the way he says "Fine" as he leaves lets me know that even in big bad New York, Santana Lopez is still a force to be reckoned with.

After Santana quickly downs the new pair of shots, I finish my first drink and switch to the other glass. Just as I take a sip, I notice Santana staring at me. _"What?'_ I say after swallowing.

_"Geez Berry just starting the second drink? Still the light weight I see,"_ she mocks.

_"Just because I choose not to pop back shot after shot doesn't mean I'm a lightweight,"_ I say unmoved by her mocking tone. The more time I spend with her, the more her taunts and jabs have little on effect on me.

_"Sure you aren't. So new hot Rachel Berry,"_ she says slowly, walking around the bar with one hand dragging along the counter.

_"Yes, Santana Lopez,"_ I say confused by her change in tone.

_"So after this whatever it is, are we going to go back to my place or yours? I don't care really which one."_ Excuse me? What?

_"Umm, excuse me?"_ I love how my brain says something right before my mouth says it. But really, what? _" Santana, why would we go back to yours or mine apartments?"_

_"For sex. Duh."_

_"Wait, why would we do that?"_

_"Isn't that where this is going?"_

_"Santana, I'm lost here."_

_"Sex. Ever heard of it? It involves two people or more sometimes, engaging in some naked Twister that usually ends in some sort of amazing climax."_ God, I hate her condensing tone right now.

_"I know what sex is, Santana."_

_"Okay, then why aren't we doing it? Or at least going somewhere to do it?"_

_"Seriously,_" I place my glass down on the counter top and turn on my stool to face her._ "why on earth would you expect me to have sex with you?"_

_"Because tu es caliente y soy caliente."_

_"Flawless logic,"_ I reply sarcastically.

_"Well, I know that seeing you now all sexy and confident and shit, I sort of want you. And I'm sure that you want me too from the way that you practically jizzed in your panties during my performances._" Dammit. I turn my head to hide the red starting to seep into my face. I didn't think I was that obvious. I mean sure, I ogled the other woman a bit during the performance but that was mostly because I was surprised to see her here._ "Look Santana,"_ I start calmly, _"when you asked me to share a drink with you, that was my intention. To share a drink. Nothing more."_

_"Well you already broke your one drink rule for the night, why not break a few more rules during this little reunion?"_ She takes a few steps closer to me, puts one hand on my bare thigh and the other on the counter next to my drink hand. _"I mean, who knows when we might see each other again after tonight,"_ she very gently starts to caress the skin of my thigh with her thumb. I let out a sigh because, dear lord this woman is good. I see why all the boys at school wanted a chance at McKinley High's hot Latin HBIC. But it has been a while since the last time that…Okay,** no**. Stop thinking it. Nothing can happen. Nothing will happen. _"It would be a shame if this possibly last meeting wasn't a memorable one. Am I right?"_ Okay, like what would be so bad about sleeping with Santana?

Pros:

**1**. I could take her back to my place and in the morning, kick her out on her ass like she did to Becka. Thus getting her back for screwing her my friends

**2.**I would have sex.

**3.** I would have sex with Santana Lopez.

Cons: I would have a one night stand with my former high school nemesis who wants me for nothing more than to have sex with me.

As I continue weighing my options, my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket on the back of the stool. I turn to face the bar (and to escape Santana's touch) and grab my phone from the pocket. The action doesn't go over well with the Latina, who lets out a very audible groan. _"Hello,"_ I say, answering the phone.

_"Hey Rach, so are you spending the night with the slutty songstress or am I coming to get you?"_ Caroline has the best timing ever. I look to my left at my first option shamelessly checking me out with eyes I remember her using when she was on the prowl. Now sure, I reiterate, having sex with Santana would be no doubt, a lot of fun and God, she is so damn sexy looking at me like she is now but she's also vulgar, rude, harmfully honestly and difficult to trust. Okay, I've made my decision. _"Come and get me,"_ I say finally and hang up. Santana groans again and this time, it's followed by a _"Dammit"._ I put my phone away, take a few final sips of my drink and get up from the stool. _"Well Santana, it was nice running into you,"_ I say grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair,_ "Hopefully we'll run into each other again. But New York is a big state so who knows?"_

_"Really Berry?"_ she says, perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.

_"Really what Santana?"_ I'm so over this meeting.

_"Are you really blowing me off right now?"_

_"I have a play I need to work on for the morning so in a sense; yes; I blowing you off."_ Santana looks at me curiously before taking another step closer to me. So close I can actually feel her breath in my face. Even though there is only like, a three inch height difference, the way that she stares down at me make me feel even smaller. But like I said before, I'm not that girl anymore. And I'm not backing down. _"Look Santana, you've clearly made your intentions for this meeting of chance known and I want to reiterate my position by saying that I will, in no way, have sex with you tonight."_

_"And why the fuck not?"_ She snaps, crossing her arms across her well sculpted chest. Okay, time for some tough love.

_"Well first off, I don't know you,"_ I argue.

_"Oh please. We've known each other since junior high. So don't try to give me that bullshit,"_ she counters.

_"Though that may be true, I haven't seen or heard from you in nearly four years so I don't know this new you."_

_"Not much has changed so next point?"_

_"I don't do one night stands,"_ I state firmly and all she does is laughs. She fucking laughs at me.

_"Oh come on Rach. Don't tell me that this little personality and wardrobe make over did nothing for your spontaneity as well."_ I roll my eyes

_"Though my style of dress has changed and improved over the years, doesn't mean I'm more promiscuous."_

_"And why not? You're letting all that hotness go to waste."_

_"Because I still believe in sex as a way to connect intimately with another person."_ She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

_"I guess I'm really not going to get a taste of Rachel's berries tonight."_ Okay, the line? She just crossed it.

_"You know what Santana?"_ I say, raising my voice. Santana leans back slightly on one foot, puts on her best 'bitch smirk' and waits for me to continue. _"I'm never EVER going to have sex with you because you are arrogant, perverse, cocky, profane, disrespectful, and I don't want to spend any more time with you. I'm not sure what happened to you over the years that had made you this intolerable but I hope you make some changes soon if you want to keep my company. So goodbye Santana."_ I don't even give her a chance to respond before I push past and storm out of the club in true diva fashion.

Hell yeah, that felt good.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think? Was the meeting what you expected? What would you like to see happen next between the girls? Shoot me a review and wait to watch the story unfold. Thanks for reading and see you all soon.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Well it turns out that I won't be graduating from college this semester but instead have to stay an extra semester. No big deal because I sort of expected it but it's gonna be weird not graduating with the rest of my friends :(**

**But anyway. Just like to thank everyone still reading for sticking around and being patient with me. I know I don't update that often but I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I only update when I'm completely satisfied with chapter. And now with summer break coming up in a few weeks, I will have much more to update this and ToD. I also have another Pezberry AU story in mind for later so keep an eye out for that. **

**Now on with the show. ****This one gets a little angsty and there's a lot of dialogue but it's important for the following chapter**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but I do wish I owned a poster of Naya in that white suit. Because that would just make my day. **

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel POV<strong>

Day… whatever. Practice number…oh I have no idea, of this damn musical and it's still not what I want. The actress playing Lucy is good but not great. The costumes are coming together but not fast enough. One of the dancers sprained her ankle so now Becka has to fill in. Gavin can't seem to take the gay out of his Lucifer speak and to top off all of my frustrations, Caroline keeps asking me about my run-in with the bitch queen herself: Santana Lopez. It's only been a few days and I refuse to go back down that road again so soon. It was bad enough the first time.

Well whatever. Life and the show must go on and until I can find a better Lucy, I'm stuck with this too nice, too plain, too soft spoken version. Hooray. "Whenever you guys are ready," I yell to the actors on and off stage from my director's seat in the audience. On stage right now is the church scene where Lucy first realizes that there is something off about her and Lucifer appears to try to explain her pain and ultimately, her origins. Let's see how they do today.

**Lucy, her grandparents and Alyssa enter from stage left. The inside of the church is to the right of the stage. The outside of the church is to the left. The two sides are separated by a large church door in the middle. There are several pews set up stage right facing a pastor's podium. Several extras are seated in the pews engaging in ad-libbed conversations unheard by the audience. Pietro and Carmela open the large door and crossover to stage right. Alyssa starts to follow but stops when she notices Lucia standing still holding her stomach**

**Alyssa: Luce. Are you okay? (walks up to the other girl)**

**Lucy: Yeah. Just a little nauseous all of a sudden. **

**Alyssa: Are you sure?**

**Lucy: Positive. Probably should've actually eaten something more than coffee for breakfast.**

**Alyssa: Probably. Well if you're good, we probably should get inside before your grandmother rips out heads off. (Lucy chuckles lightly before taking a deep breath and straightening up) You all good?**

**Lucifer: (voice offstage) No.**

**Lucy: (ignoring the voice)Yes.**

**Alyssa: Alright. Then let's go. (Lucy takes another deep breath and nods. Alyssa opens the door to the church and the pair enters. Immediately, Lucy clutches her stomach and backs away)**

**Lucifer: (voice offstage) Hurts, doesn't it?**

**Lucy: (loud whisper through gritted teeth) Shut up.**

**Lucifer: (voice offstage) You will never fit in there. This place isn't for me. Or for you.**

**Lucy: (louder) I said shut the fuck up!**

**Alyssa: Luce, are you sure you're okay?**

**Lucy: Actually. No. No, I'm not.**

**Alyssa: Come on. Let's go sit on the bench by the parking lot. Service doesn't start for a few so we have some time. (Alyssa puts her arm around Lucy to steady her and leads them both to the bench at stage left. Once on the bench and away from the church, Lucy straightens up and the pain is no longer present in her face) Better?**

**Lucy: (takes a deep breath and exhales) Yeah. I don't know what happened. I was perfectly fine but as soon as I took a step into the church, my head started pounding and my stomach started churning. Then as soon as I go away from it, everything stopped. **

**Alyssa: Maybe you're allergic to the church. (starts laughing) Hell, I thought I was until I starting going with you.**

**Lucy: (somber tone) Haha. Yeah. ****Maybe. But in case I'm coming down with something, I'm going to head home. (gets up from the bench)**

**Alyssa: You sure? You gonna take the car? (stands up as well)**

**Lucy: I'm sure. And I'm just gonna walk. It's only a couple of blocks. Tell nonno and nonna that I wasn't feeling well and went home to rest. Hopefully they won't be too mad.**

**Alyssa: For my sake, I hope so too. But sure thing. Just go and feel better. **

**Lucy: Thanks. Have fun in there. Try not to go to sleep again.**

**Alyssa: No promises. (Alyssa reenters the church, leaving Lucia on the other side of the door. Lucia starts to walk down stage and off that stage. Lucifer appears from behind a tree next to the stage and starts walking with her)**

**Lucy: What do you want?**

**Lucifer: You know you can't go back in there, right? You're too old now and there's too much of me in you for you to be wanted there. Besides, it'll only hurt you.**

**Lucy: I have nothing from you.**

**Lucifer: Sure you don't. You are my legacy.**

**Lucia: I am nothing like you.**

**Lucifer: Please. Like father, like daughter.**

**Lucy: (stops in the middle of the aisle and turns to face Lucifer. Yells) I am not your fucking daughter! So you and your lies can just go to hell!**

**Lucifer: Oh my spicy demoness, I run the place.**

"CUT!"

"What the problem now?" Caroline asks from the seat next to me.

"Yeah Rachel. What did we do wrong this time?" Gavin asks, stepping out of his Lucifer persona. What did they do wrong? Did they even do anything wrong? Honestly, it's not that they did anything wrong, it's just that the casting is wrong. I don't know. Sarah is a great actress and she's playing Lucia as best as she can but she's acting a bit too nice to be the demon spawn of Satan. "Guys, take 5," I finally say once I leave my own thoughts. "You know what? How about we call it a day? I got to go over some notes and stuff so we'll start back up tomorrow afternoon. Alright?" The actors and actresses on and near the stage nod and scatter while Caroline, Becka and Gavin surround my chair, staring at me. "What?" I ask, looking at my clipboard to avoid their awkward stares.

"Okay, what is up with you girl?" Becka asks me.

"Yeah, you've been distracted and on edge since your run-in with the Wicked Witch of Western Ohio," Caroline says. I roll my eyes, sigh, put my clipboard on my lap and slide down into my chair until I can rest my head on the back of it.

"Can we not talk about that unfortunate encounter?" I groan. "I'd rather not relive it."

"So I'm guessing we're not going back there this weekend?" Caroline asks.

"Not a chance. Besides, I have to finish this damn musical and as much as I love Sarah; she's just not enough."

"Why not ask Santana?" Gavin asks innocently. Um, what? Has he not been paying attention to my sulking for the last few days because of said Latina? Though I will not admit that out loud.

"Seriously?" I sit up and cross my arms. "Why in the hell would I ask Santana to play the lead role in my musical that is vital to my college and Broadway careers? Have you note been listening the entire time when I told you about how she treated me?"

"What? So she said a few crude things, came onto you a little bit harder than expected and then proposed sex?"

"Not proposed. Assumed," I clarify.

"Okay. Assumed. Either way. From what I've heard so far, nothing that she said isn't any worse than any of the lines random guys have said in the past. So why so upset?"

"Gavin, you don't even know her."

"Neither do you."

"Um. I've known Santana Lopez since middle school."

"But she never wanted to have sex with you no matter how promiscuous she was so something about her has changed." If only you knew.

"Yeah, now she just wants to sleep with anything with boobs and a pussy."

"Whoa there potty mouth, calm down," Caroline cuts in picking up on my frustrations.

"Look all I'm saying is that you're not giving this Santana a chance. From your stories, she seems perfect."

"A chance to do what? To screw around with me and inevitably screw me over? No thank you. Been down that road once and I'm not going through that hurt again."

"What hurt?" Caroline questions and oh shit. I just realized what I just said. Oh no. Not going to go there. I've kept that piece of history locked away in the recesses of my subconscious labeled "Never EVER mention again" and that's where it will stay. "Nothing," I lie. Caroline looks at me incredulously.

"Are you sure it's nothing?" she asks.

"Yeah," I lie again. "Now can we just pack it up and head home? I have Santana unrelated work to do and I don't want to hear anymore about her. Got it?"

"Yeah. Fine," Becka says.

"Okay. I'll drop it," Caroline agrees.

"No. I will not drop it," Gavin says. Of course. There's always one in the tour group that has to keep asking questions.

"Why can't you just let it go like everybody else?"

"Because something happened between you two in the past that you're not telling us and I want to know what. Because I feel like you will forever be on edge until you let it out and deal with it."

"There is nothing to deal with, Gavin. So why can't you just let me forget that I ever saw her again, forget that I knew her, just forget all about Santana Lopez and just go back to being happy?" I don't know why I'm pleading but I just want to forget about everything that either happened or more like didn't happen between us. I can't go down that road. Not after everything that's changed.

"Because I care about you and having Santana pop back into your life has turned you back into that high strung, workaholic Rachel Berry that I met freshmen year that was too afraid to even go to the dining hall for fear of being slushied. I mean look at what she's done so far and you've only seen her twice."

"And you want me to see her again?" He nods. "To what? Send me all the way back to that girl that we've worked to change in the last four years? How is that going to help?" He looks at Caroline and Becka on the other side of me and they look at me. What's he looking for? Them to agree with him? Why the hell would they agree when it doesn't make again damn sense?

"I guess it doesn't make any sense. But," he says softly.

"Exactly. So shut the fuck up and drop it!" I yell before getting up, grabbing my clipboard and storming out of the theater in true diva fashion. I really need a drink right now.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana POV<strong>

"Did she seriously reject me? Me? I'm Santana Fucking Lopez and last I checked, she was just Rachel Berry. So how the fuck did she reject me?" I've been ranting for the last 10 minutes about none other than Rachel Berry to Kevin and Luis and for some reason, I'm still pissed. Why the fuck am I pissed?

"So one girl rejected you. Big fucking deal. Move on," Luis says. "There are so many girls out there. Hotter girls. Easier girls."

"Dude, you didn't see this girl. She's pretty hot," Kevin chimes in.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Short but girl has legs that go on for days. Tan. Brown hair. Nice lips and the way she wore her dress was like the good Lord created it just for her."

"Can the two of you shut the fuck up and focus on my problem?" I yell and they instantly shut up. "Thank you." I may be smaller and younger but I still have the loudest voice.

"Honestly, I still don't see what the problem is?" Luis says. "So you ran into some hot girl from high school. You flirted her up and she said no. Why the angst?"

"Did you request sex?" Kevin asks. Who the hell says 'did you request sex'?

"Not so much requested as demanded," I answer nonchalantly.

"So called it!" he exclaims. Asshole. So what he was right about me wanting to sleep with her as soon as I talked to her. What? It's been weeks since I've had a decent hook up, she was looking all hot in that super short dress with those legs of hers and was looking at me with those big brown eyes and something about the way she was acting all confident and shit. I don't know. I just really wanted to get her back to my apartment and do unspeakable things to her until she was screaming my name into the night.

"Yeah. So. I wanna fuck her. What of it?" I spit back.

"It's just…Is that why you're so pissed? Cause she said no? Or is there something deeper here?" Oh Kevin. Always trying to psychoanalyze things and get past my emotional walls. Doesn't he realize that I put them up for a damn reason?

"I don't know. Maybe. It's just. I don't know. I'm just irritated," I stutter. What the hell has this girl done to all my cool? Like seriously. I have like a 10 minute max conversation, most of which I wasn't really listening. Just kind of checking her out and taking shots. But in that short amount of time, she managed to turn me into a fucking blathering idiot.

"Why don't you call her?" Kevin suggests. I cross my arms and raise one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"And why would I do that?" I question, curious to hear to his reasoning for requesting such a stupid ass thing.

"Maybe because clearly you have some tension with this girl. Whether unresolved or not; there's tension. If you call her up and try to talk like a calm, civilized adult instead of horny teenaged boy with a record to beat, maybe some of the air will clear."

"And if not, then maybe you'll get another chance to sleep with her."

"**LUIS!**" me and Kevin yell at the same time. The dumbass just shrugs his shoulders and sinks back into the couch. Kevin and I both roll our eyes and turn our attention away from the dumbass and back to each other. Also known as the only intelligent people in the room. "Okay, ignore him," Kev starts, "I do think you should get her number and give her a call and apologize for acting like such a low class asshole."

"I wasn't acting like an asshole," I say, trying to defend myself, "I was just acting like I usually do to get a girl."

"No you weren't. I saw you. You were acting like the old Santana, Q and 'Cedes told us about but like ten times worst."

"Can I chime into this angst fest?" Luis asks raising his hand. God, I'm really not in the mood for his stupidity right now. Sometimes I feel like Finnocence on a bad day is smarter than this kid.

"Only if you have some good advice and not some more bullshit to add to the pile you've racked up this evening," I say callously.

"All I want to say is that after much mental deliberation, I agree with Kevin."

"Thank you," Kevin says, throwing his hands in the air like he won a fucking prize for advice or some shit.

"Hold on there Mr. Excited." Kevin freezes with his hands in the air. "I agree that she should call this girl but I don't think she should have to apologize for flirting."

"This wasn't flirting, Luis. This was a verbal assault."

"Or verbal violence."

"Oh. Alliteration." Luis nods like a damn 5 year old. "How about mental manslaughter?"

"Or maybe diction destruction?"

"Or how about tongue terror?" They both pause then start laughing. "No, that one actually sounds pretty good."

"How about you jackasses stop focusing on your little battle of dimwits and help me?" I'm seriously getting tired of this. I've been talking to these knuckleheads for what seems like forever and we are no closer to solving my Rachel Berry problem. Listen to me. My Rachel Berry problem. I never thought I'd have another Rachel Berry problem after I packed up my bags, said my goodbyes and didn't look back. But remember what I said? The universe is a jackass hell bent to prove some point to me by bringing that woman back into my life.

"Okay, okay, okay. Calm your tits woman," Kevin says standing up from the couch and walking up in front of me. He looks down at me with those blue eyes of his and some of my anger dissipates. "You want my advice right?"

"No, I want to suck your dick. Of course I want your fucking advice!" Told you some of the anger left. Not all of it. "What the hell have we been talking about for like the last like twenty minutes or so?"

"Whoa Kev. Better be careful. Looks like Snix is back," Luis mocks from the couch and it takes all my strength to not pounce on him and punch that fucking smug grin off his face. I settle for flipping him off and a simple, "Fuck you".

"Anyway," Kevin says rolling his eyes. "Call her. Apologize and be done with it. That way the air will be clear and you'll be able to sleep at night."

"I've been sleeping perfectly fine, thank you very much." He crosses his arms and looks at me with that 'girl please' look. I hate that look. Especially from him. Because for some goddamn reason, I can't lie to him when he's giving me that look. "I don't have her number," I concede.

"I'm sure you have some old friends who might have it. Maybe Quinn or Mercedes or…"

"Pixie boy." I interrupt.

"Pixie boy?" Luis chimes back in.

"Kurt," he and Kevin nod. "He and Berry were like total besties when we graduated so I'm assuming he knows her number."

"Go for it. Then tell us how it goes."

"Yeah. I wanna hear all about how your apology crashed and burned." And that was the final straw. I walk over to the couch, looking that Latin boy right in the eyes the entire way, watching as they went from amused to scared in 2 seconds. Before he has time to escape, I grab the pillow next to him and beat him over the head like ten or so times. "Motherfucker!" I hear him say under my assault and only stop pounding the shit out of him when Kevin tells us that he's going to bed and to not kill each other while he's in the apartment. His distraction allows Luis to escape and run straight to his room. "You're one lucky bastard," I say tossing the pillow to its original spot on the couch.

"Bitch," he says before quickly closing his door.

"Damn straight."

Okay. So now that the mess is over with, where on earth did I put Hummel's number? Mercedes gave it to me like 2 months ago in the event I wanted to give my fellow glee club gay a call after all these years but I've never felt the need to. Quinn, Mercedes, Mike are the only ones I've really talked to the last four years. I've talked to Sam because of Mercedes; Tina because of Mike and Puck because of Quinn. But not as much as the original three. Now don't get the wrong idea about Quinn and Puck. They're not together. For one, Quinn is flaming homosexual like me now and Puck is a freeloading band boy. So, they just live together like me and the boys to save money.

But besides them, I haven't talked to or heard from anybody else from that godforsaken place. Mercedes and Tina have helped to fill me in on everybody's life to best of their abilities but that's only been in the last 2 years are or so because right after graduation, I didn't tell anybody where I was going. I just left and successfully managed to disappear for nearly 2 years until Mercedes and her ridiculously good sleuthing skills found out from my dad that I had been accepted and went to Columbia for a year before dropping out. He told her that the last he checked, I was still living in New York somewhere and the next thing I knew, the black girl was standing outside my apartment door with a suitcase and a look of disappointment on her face. Same ol' Wheezy.

Quinn and Mike soon followed. Quinn because we met at the same lesbian club one night. I'd like to say I was surprised to see her there, but really, I wasn't. She pinged on my gaydar around 9th grade when she suggested that we kiss each other to practice for boys. Most people thought that I or Britt who suggested it but nope, it was her. I ran into Mike at a dance class he was teaching in the city and considering how we were sort of bros in the past, we just picked back up over coffee and the rest is history.

"Hellooo. Kurt Hummel speaking." Why does he have to sing his greetings? Man, I forgot how obnoxious his voice can be. Like seriously. You'd think it would've dropped an octave with the passing years but clearly, it hasn't. "I don't recognize your number so who, may I ask, is calling?"

" 'Sup Gay boy fresh," I say simply. I hear a deep sigh through the phone.

"Santana Lopez."

"The one and only."

"Well well. What has it been? Like 4 years?"

"Almost."

"Well, to what do I owe the displeasure?" See, I knew there was a reason why we eventually got along so well. He's as big of a bitch as I am.

"You talk to Rachel lately?" I ask getting right to the point.

"Rachel? As in Rachel Berry?"

"Yeah. What other Rachel do we both know?"

"I don't know. I just never remember hearing you reference her as Rachel before." I roll my eyes.

"Look, whatever. Do you have her number?"

"Why do you need it?"

"Because I ran into her a while ago and I need to get in touch with her."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not the magic word."

**"GODDAMMIT HUMMEL**! Give me the fucking number before I find you and crush your fucking man part with a meat mallet!"

"Whoa there. Grotesque. But effective."

"So the number?" I demand.

"First promise me one thing?" I sigh and switch the phone to my other ear.

"Yeah sure. Whatever," I answer.

"Promise that if I give you this number, you won't use it to hut her again. Not after the last time."

"What last time?"

"When you left." Fuck. Of course he would have to bring that up.

"Look. I just want to ask her about so music stuff and then I'll be out of her life for good this time," I lie. There really is no point in mentioning that I've already royally fucked up and am just trying to call to apologize. Maybe. I'm not sure yet.

"Just give me the fucking number, Hummel." He reads off the number and I scribble it down on a piece of scrap paper on the coffee table. "Thanks Pixie boy," I say with a devilish grin I wish he could see.

"That one's new. And not a problem, Satan," he counters.

"That one's not so new. Get some new material there Hummel," I jab.

"Get a new personality, Lopez."

"Bye bitch. It's been fun chatting but I gots a hobbit to call."

"Whatever Santana. Just don't fuck with her again," he warns.

"I'll try," and then I hang up. And this is why I tried not keep in touch with those from my past. Because they are nothing but pains in my ass. And my head. Don't get me wrong. If somebody were to come along and threaten anyone of them, I would go all Lima Heights and protect them with my life. Well….maybe not Finn but everybody else. It's just that I've changed. I'm not that same bitchy cheerleader I once was. I've been through enough to take all the pep out of my life and I don't think any of them will understand.

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel POV<strong>

After my little diva storm out of the theatre, I made my way back to my apartment. Caroline, Gavin and Becka tried to follow me but I begged them not to, stating that I needed time to myself to sort some things out in my head. And by sort things, I mean figure out why the hell just the thought of Santana has me temperamental. Come to think of it, it's actually my fault really. I should have just listened to my conscience and just never went back to that club. If I hadn't gone back, i wouldn't be feeling like shit right now. But of course I had to go back. And not just because of Caroline's persuasion either. I just had to go back one more time. I just had to see her just one more time. I had to hear her husky voice. I had to watch her body glide effortless across the stage. I had to see those full lips, that raven hair, those onyx lust filled eyes. I just had to go and now back into the emotional dredges I go.

I used to be happy. Well mostly. Something has always felt missing from my life, especially after Finn and I broke up but I just assumed it was loneliness. But despite the occasional ice cream and musical movie nights alone, I was still happy. But then I had to go to the Blue Mic Club. Now I can't get that damn Latina off my mind and it hurts because i shouldn't be thinking about her again. I need a distraction. I wonder if Kurt's free to chat for a bit. Grabbing a large glass from the cabinet, I set it on the table in the kitchen before retrieving a bottle of red wine from under the sink. My dads always told me that alcohol isn't the answer when dealing with tough situations but right now, I can care less. I need some sort of emotional relief and a nice wine buzz should do the trick. After popping the cork and pouring the red liquid into my glass, I take a seat at the table, pull out my phone, dial Kurt's number, bring the phone to my ear and the glass to my lips and wait.

"Helloooo, Kurt Hummel speaking," he sings and in that moment, I realize how much I miss the boy. After he got into NYADA and I didn't, there was a brief riff in our relationship. But when I got accepted to NYU's Tisch, I couldn't wait to tell my best gay that I would be joining him in New York and following my dreams of Broadway stardom after all. We've remained close but the last year has been pretty stressful with me working on my musical and auditions and Kurt working on his Fashion line "Kurtcedes" with Mercedes and his auditions as well. So basically we have seen each other maybe twice for coffee in the last month.

"Hello Kurt," I say, kindly.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, girl how have you been? To what do I owe the honor?" he says enthusiastically.

"Well, I've been busy. That's how I've been," I answer picking up the glass in front of me and taking a sip of wine, enjoying the taste and the very slight buzz it gives me.

"Same old Rachel Berry. Always the workaholic."

"Oh whatever. At least I have better clothes now."

"Thanks to me, Mercedes and my design school buddies," he brags. See, this is why I knew calling him would be the breath of fresh air I needed. He and his high voice are the perfect distraction from my Santana thoughts. "Well it's actually good that you called because I got an interesting phone call today from a Miss Santana Lopez." So much for my distraction.

"Oh really? What did she want?" I ask, incredibly curious about his answer.

"She actually wanted your number," he admits. Oh what the hell?

"Why?" I ask because now I'm **REALLY** curious about his answer.

"Well the demon temptress mentioned something about bumping into you recently and something about wanting to get back touch with you to talk about music or something. She didn't go into to detail." Oh great. So Santana wants to talk to me. Why the hell does she want to talk to me? What? She didn't get enough insulting me the last time? Is she trying to call for another round at picking at all my insecurities until I roll over and submit?

Wait, hold up Rachel.

You're getting ahead of yourself. He never said he gave her your number. "Kurt, did you give Santana my number?" I ask seriously praying for him to say that he didn't. There's a long pause on the other end of the line and that's not a good scene. "Kurt?" I ask again, making sure he's still on the line.

"Would you be mad at me if I told you that I did?" he says in return. Goddammit.

"What the hell, Kurt?" I whine slamming my glass down onto the table (luckily it doesn't break).

"What? I'm sorry! But what was I supposed to do? She threatened me with bodily harm and even over the phone, Santana Lopez is scary as hell. But give me some credit. At least I'm warning about Satan's impending summoning," he tries defending himself.

"Oh great," I sigh, running both hands through my hair,

"Hey, don't worry Rach. I warned her about screwing with you again," Kurt reassures me but honestly, it doesn't bring me much comfort. Actually, it just adds to the headache I thought I had left at the theater.

"Too late for that," I say without even thinking.

"What? What the hell has she done already?" he yells (well more like squeaks because it is Kurt after all).

"Nothing too damaging," I say not completely lying.

"Tell me about it later?" he asks.

"Yes. Sure thing." Suddenly there's a beep signalling a call waiting. "Kurt, I'll call you later. Somebody's calling."

"Looks like Satan's ears were burning."

"I highly doubt that it's Santana," I look at the incoming number and I have no idea who it is. Crap.

"Well, if it is," he pauses, "Good Luck."

"Thanks," I say before switching over. I have never been so scared to answer someone's call before. I feel like I'm in a horror movie or thriller. Like that girl in 'When a Stranger calls'. I'm actually almost expecting the person on the other end to say "Have you checked on the children?"

"Hello?" I say to the anonymous caller.

"Berry hey. It's Santana." Yup. Definitely a horror movie. But I'm not going to be that girl who the questions the villain about his or hers plans while she sits in her living room as a sitting target to either get snatched or killed. No ma'am. Not today.

"Goodbye Santana," I snap prepared to hang up.

"Wait! Don't hang yup," she pleads. "Just hear me out."

To continued

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the cliffhanger but I promise to make it up to you in the next chapter.<strong>

**What to expect next: Rachel and Santana meet for coffee and secrets from the last few years are revealed. Also one of the girls reveals something about that past that will affect the both of them**

**Now I'm sure some of you can't wait for some Pezberry lovin' but I'm trying to build Rachel's trust and Santana has to make some changes before she can get a taste of Rachel's berries ;) So be patient. It will be worth it. Also I stopped italizing the dialogue because it grew to be too tedious to do. If you guys prefer them, let me know. If this is fine, I will leave it.**

**Side note: Who else stopped breathing when they saw Naya in that pink jumpsuit and that white suit? I literally stopped whatever I was doing, my mouth dropped open and I didn't move until the scenes were over. Sad but true. The things that woman's hotness does to me *sigh*.**

**Anyway, as always don't forget to shoot me your comments on what you liked, what you didn't like and what you'd like to see in the future. Later lovelies!**


	7. Author's note

**Hey gang!**

**So I know this isn't the update that you're probably wanting, but trust me, I'm working on it.  
><strong>**I've been going through a lot lately, physically, academically and emotionally. So I haven't really had the drive to write. But things have started to pick up in my life and I think I've gotten my muse back. **

**So the next real update should come no later than Sunday night. I just have to add and edit a few things before posting it.  
>Now, if you are still interested, here's some things to look forward to in the next chapter. <strong>

**1. Rachel and Santana meet for coffee to clear the air and hopefully have a nice time catching up. How do you think that will go?**

**2. More lezbro time with Santana, Kevin and Luis. Also, Caroline tries to convince Rachel to take Santana on as her lead. Will she ask and if so, will Santana accept?**

**3. There will be a bit of a time jump at the end (a week or so) to get things moving along. I know where I want this story to go, I just have to get there.**

**So if you have any suggestions on what you would like to read in this story, there's still time for me to make edits. Just review and let me know.**

**Hope to hear from you soon.**

**xo Jenae**


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey gang! I'm back finally. Thank you all so much for being patient with me and putting up with my inconsistent updating. I'm trying to be as consistent as I can but I write as I get inspiration. Also a big thanks to all those who have reviewed, favorited or story alerted. I really value your opinions and keep writing because of you guys. But anyway, update time. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Although any mistakes are mine.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

Santana POV

'Why did I agree to this?' I think as I pull into an empty parking space. I put my car in park, unclick my seatbelt and sigh. Why the hell did I agree to this?

Confused? Here, let me explain. It all started when I got Lady Hummel to give me Berry's number. When she finally picked up, what followed was a painfully awkward conversation where she spent the first part threatening to hang up on me. Which was then followed by me begging her not to until she listened to me.

Okay. Strike that.

Maybe not begging because Santana Lopez doesn't beg. Not even in bed. People tend to give me what I want without me having to plead with them. So it was more like repeatedly requesting her not to hang up on me.

_**Flashback**_

_**"What do you want Santana?" Damn. She is really pissed at me. This isn't going to be an easy sell. Goddamn Kevin and his motherfucking advice.**_

_**"Listen for a sec Berry. I'm trying to apologize for all the shit I said to you the other day," I spit out, jumping straight to the point.**_

_**"Oh really?" I can practically feel her cross her arms across her little chest and rolling her eyes in that Rachel Berry way. But then again, maybe this new Berry doesn't do that. Maybe she only rolls her eyes. Or maybe she puts her hands on her hips and shifts her weight to one side in a standoffish way. Or maybe I should listen to what the hell she's saying because she just said something. Shit. "What was that, Berry?" I ask.**_

_**"Jesus Christ, you called me and now you're not even listening to me when I ask you why you called?"**_

_**"I thought you were Jewish?"**_

_**"What the hell, Santana? You have literally 30 seconds to explain the reason for this call before I hang up on you and make it so you never find me again. Got it?" Holy shit. Okay. How do I even respond to that? **_

_**"Like I said, I wanted to apologize for acting like a classless jackass the other night," I start.**_

_**"20 seconds."**_

_**"And I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to get coffee or some shit like that so we can catch up properly." She doesn't answer right away and I'm not okay with that. Yes or no. It's simple and for some reason, I really want the answer to be yes. Don't judge me.**_

_**"Is that it?" she says finally and what the fuck kind of answer is that? Doesn't even make any damn sense.**_

_**"Is what it?"**_

_**"Is that all you want to say to me?"**_

_**"Well yeah. What else do you want me to say, Berry?"**_

_**"I'm not sure. I feel that your apology lacks something but I guess you can give it another try over coffee."**_

_**"Seriously?"**_

_**"Yes. How does tomorrow morning sound?"**_

_**"How about tomorrow afternoon? It's Saturday and I don't do mornings."**_

_**"I'm busy in the afternoon. Tomorrow morning Santana. Take it or leave it."**_

_**End Flashback**_

It seemed easy enough to agree to a not so random chance encounter with Berry but now as I'm sitting inside my car, anxiously drumming my fingers on the steering wheel (which is weird because I don't do anxious) I'm starting to regret this whole fucking thing. Like, this will be the first time we've spoken in the last like, four years. I mean, I know we talked the other night but that little encounter at the Blue Mic doesn't count because alcohol was involved and I was too busy staring at her cleavage and trying to think of creative ways to fuck her senseless to actually be listening to anything she had to say. So now, if I ever decide to get the hell out of the damn car we will truly talk. No jazz bands. No telephones. Absolutely no alcohol (which I wish I had some right now). Just some serious sober face-to-face one-on-one Lopez-Berry time.

Great.

I take a few minutes to reevaluate my life choices and my decision to actually be here right now. I also mentally prepare to apologize or whatever shit Kevin wants me to do to make nice and be the bigger person. Such a load of bull. But whatever. I wonder what time it is. I look at the clock on my phone. 10:15.

Fuck.

I'm late. We agreed to meet at 10 in the morning today (despite my pleas for an afternoon rendezvous). But at least she had a good excuse because she has a weekend class at noon (who the hell takes weekend classes?) and is going to be busy for the rest of the day. New confidence and wardrobe. Same old Rachel Berry. So basically now's the only time she could spare so I actually managed to drag my sexy yet oh so sleepy ass out of bed before noon on a weekend. And for what? For me to be late. Nice one. I hope she's still here. No. Strike that. She better be still here. She knows I'm usually fashionably late to just about everything (jobs don't count because one gets fired pretty quickly for being late and I needs my money).

I sigh, check my hair and makeup in the front mirror and… What the fuck am I doing? Fuck this. It's just Berry.

Quickly grabbing my Coach bag (a gift from Daddy) from the passenger's seat, I open the door, get out of the car and click my remote twice to lock it. Since it's not a date or whatever, I'm just dressed in a pair of black Bermuda shorts, a blue short sleeved V-neck that makes my still rambunctious twins look awesome and black low top converses.

Wondering what happened to my near patented Santana Lopez style of from the past? Well ever since mi Papi found out I dropped out of college to pursue music ("la vergüenza" he said. Truly his mother's son with that one), he decided that the best way to punish me was to cut me off financially. But since I'm as stubborn as he is not to mention way more creative, it didn't punish me as much as it made me get resourceful with my money making. Now I don't dress as super sexy hot runway fashionable anymore but I still manage to look super sex hot. Thus proving my theory that Santana Lopez can look good in anything. And as soon as I get my record deal, I will buy my own clothing line and never have to pay for an article of clothing again. Suck my cockiness, Papi.

I walk up to the door (a little bit faster than my usual strut because I'm late and not because I'm eager), tuck my aviator sunglasses behind my ears and put them on top my head, while letting my hair hang loose today. I take a deep breath before pushing through one of the double doors.

Right when I enter, I'm hit by the strong aroma of Starbuck's signature coffee scent. I'm actually more of a Dunkin Donuts kind of chica nowadays because A. it's cheaper and B. I love their doughnuts. But Starbuck's isn't so bad. There are definitely more options here. There are surprisingly a lot of people here for it to be so early in the morning (for me, at least). Shouldn't they be at work or something? Oh whatever. They're not who I'm looking for. I scan the place for the small diva and I spot several small brunette but not my small brunette. Well, she's not mine either but…it's just…uh…well…none of them are her, okay?

Well fuck. I don't see her. I know I'm a little late but I still hoped that she would have stuck around for a bit just to see if I would come or not. I could text her. I pull out my Blackberry and start scrolling through my contacts when…Fuck. I don't have her number. I didn't save the one Lady Hummel gave me because I wasn't sure if it was her house or cell number and it would be really stupid texting a house number, right? But seriously, she's not here. And I am such a fuck up. Again. Chalk this one as another relationship that ended before it started. And I didn't even get some hot no strings attached sex out of it.

Well this sucks. Oh well. Might as well get some coffee out of this failed meeting before heading home for some much needed sleep before work tonight.

As soon as I slink my way to the back of the line of four patrons, someone touches my shoulder._ "You finally came?"_ I know that voice anywhere.

_"Wanky,"_ I say suggestively. I couldn't resist.

_"Same old Santana,"_ she scoffs and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. I turn around and…

Damn.

Well now I feel like a bum. Well I don't look like a bum but I feel like one. Only Rachel Berry would dress so elegantly in the morning. On a motherfuckin' Saturday no less. Like seriously. Who wears a navy blue sleeveless v-neck mini dress that hugs her in all the right ways, matching blue wedges that complement a nice pair of tanned dancer's legs and her hair down and straightened for just a casual coffee with a "sort of" friend? Rachel Berry. That's who._ "Are you done staring Santana?"_

What?

Oh shit.

I am staring. Great start Lopez. Way to make her think you're not just interested in her for her body.

_"Sorry Berry. You just look nice, is all."_ What the hell am I saying right now? I really need to get it together if I'm going to make it through this with any of my dignity.

_"Why thank you,"_ she says tucking her hair behind her right ear. _"Always the flirt, now aren't you?"_

_"Takes one to know one."_

_"I assure you that I have not flirted with you,_" she denies. _"At least not since the time you practically gave me a lap dance."_

_"Oh please. What about by the bar?"_

_"I didn't flirt with you. We were just talking."_

_"Well you didn't verbally,"_ lowering my voice to a whisper, _"but your eyes and body betrayed you. __As usual. __Just like right now. "_ She tries to put on her best glare but when up against the glaring queen; it's more like a pout with squinted eyes. Or in other words; it barely affects me. It's kind of cute that she tried though. _"Okay then. Well sorry for being all late and shit,"_ I apologize.

_"Last I remembered, you were late to just about everything,"_ she jests with a smirk that I really shouldn't like but hey, she's all cute now and it's sexy as hell. Sue me. I guess Kevin was right (though I will never admit it) but talking to her has made me realize how much I want to get her alone and do some unspeakable things to her on the counter. And the couch. And my floor. And my bed. Well just about everywhere she's willing.

_"Well just because I wasn't always ten minutes early to things doesn't mean that I was always late,"_ I counter.

_"But arriving ten minutes after the start of a meeting or a program does."_

_"You should know I never **arrive** early,"_ I say suggestively. She tries to brush it off by rolling her eyes but the red creeping into her cheeks and ears give her away.

Yup.

Still got it. Still in control.

_"Besides, that was back then. I'm different now."_

_"I've noticed. I'm just not so sure that it's been for the better."_ She then turns and stands at the new end of the line. Okay, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? We were having such a nice civil conversation for the first since high school and then she goes and says some shit like that. **No me gusta.**

I turn on my heels, take a few steps and stand next to her in the line. _"Um, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"_ I ask, crossing my arms.

_"Oh nothing, Santana,"_ she says totally brushing off my question and obviously what she said like it didn't even happen.

_"No. You will not just ignore like you used to do."_

_"What do you mean by that?"_ she asks turning abruptly to face me.

_"Well what the fuck did you mean before?"_

_"Mean by what?"_ Ay Dios Mio. This woman is already driving me crazy and not in the way that I typically prefer. Okay Santana. Try to stay calm. We are in a public place surrounded by a bunch of people. Mostly old fogies, hipsters and business drones but still. Too many witnesses.

_"Okay look, hobbit,"_ I take a step closer to her which she doesn't seem to notice because she's now staring at the fucking menu._ "Not just a fucking minute ago you were admitting that I have changed but ever the queen of backhanded compliments, you also claimed that I've changed for the worst. Care to explain that Miss Berry?"_

_"Coffee first. Then talking when we find a table,"_ she says without even turning her head. Well fine then.

We wait in the line silently which is weird as hell. Since when is Rachel berry silent? I mean, I know that I've sort of been disrespectful and inconsiderate of her feelings or whatever and she's obviously pretty pissed at me but if she's mad enough to barely talk to me, she didn't have to agree to meet with me. But she did and now I wants some attention.

It takes only a few minutes for us to reach the counter where some young female cashier is closing the register after putting away the money from the last customer. The cashier girl looks a few years younger than me and Rachel. Dark, almost black hair. Tanned skin. Full lips. Dark brown eyes. Probably Italian. And oddly familiar. She's looking at me curiously and yeah, I've definitely seen her somewhere before. _"Hi, what can I get you?"_ she says politely.

_"Well hello. Can I get a caramel frappacino with soy milk. No foam,"_ Rachel says quickly like it's her job as the cashier girl punches in her order on the cash register.

_"And for you miss?"_ she says to me with a smirk that if I wasn't a flirt myself, I wouldn't have noticed it's definitely different from the friendly smile she just gave Rachel.

_"She'll have just a black coffee with two sugars,"_ Rachel says before I have the chance to get a word out. Wait, how the hell does she remember that? She must have picked up on my confusion because she turns to face me and asks, _"That's how you like your coffee, right? Or has that changed also?"_

_"You just have to take control of things, don't you?"_ I jab playfully. She just rolls her eyes. _"But you're lucky you're right."_

_"Well okay. So that's one caramel frappacino with soy milk, no foam and one black coffee with two sugars. Anything else for today ladies?"_

_"No thank you. Santana?"_ Rachel asks pulling out a ten dollar bill from her purse.

_"No. I'm good."_ Wait. She is not about to pay for my shit._ "No Rach,"_ Where the hell did that come from? _"I got this."_

_"No you don't. I already have my money out. So don't even think about pulling out any money."_

_"But I can pay for my own shit."_

_"I know you can but this is easier so stop being hard headed, shut the hell up and let me pay for our drinks,"_ Rachel demands. Whoa. Where did that come from? And why am I not upset? I guess it's because in a way, I've missed her demanding side. I shouldn't be this turned on right now considering I just got publically reprimanded by a midget but…fuck. Demanding Rachel is still sexy as fuck. And even more so now in that dress.

_"Fine. You win this round."_ I put my hands up in surrender and she then puts the ten on the counter. The cashier girl (Alexa according to her name tag) takes the bill, opens the cash register, puts the bill inside and just when she's about to give Rachel her change, the midget puts her hand up and says,_ "Thanks but keep the change as a tip for being so polite."_ Alexa looks at her. Then at me. I look at her. Then at Rachel. Then I roll my eyes.

_"Well…uh…thanks,"_ Alexa says thankfully.

_"Not a problem. Have a nice day."_ How this woman still manages to be so polite is beyond me. Well she wasn't all that polite to me after a while but I'm a bitch so it makes sense.

_"Caramel frappacino with soy milk. No foam,"_ young faced male worker yells from the end of the counter. Damn. That was fast.

_"Well that's me. I'll go find us a table,"_ Rachel says before walking away to pick up her order. Okay. What am I supposed to do now? Just stand here like a dumbass? My order isn't ready. There's no one behind me in line and this Alexa chick keeps staring at me. _"Um, can I help you?"_ I sneer, putting my hands on my hips, leaning back on one leg and plastering on my best bitch stare.

_"Not really,"_ she says totally unfazed by my glare apparently.

_"Okay. Well then.."_

_"You're name's Santana, right? Santana Lopez?"_

_"Yeah. Who wants to know?"_

_"Alexa Moretti."_

_"Okay, so we've covered the who. Now the how? How you do know my name?"_ I pause and think about all the ways I could possibly know a cute girl's face but not remember her name._ "Oh shit, did I sleep with you and forget to call you or something because if so, I am so sorry but I'm pretty sure I informed you that my one stand deal that doesn't include phone calls the next day."_ I so need to stop rambling. Especially since she's laughing. Okay so is that a 'No silly, you didn't have sex with me' laugh or a 'Yeah you did and I'm so gonna mess you up for not calling me, you motherfucking bitch' laugh?

_"Chill out Santana. We never slept together,"_ she reassures and I breathe a sigh of relief. No need for another Carla incident in the middle of Starbucks.

_"So I repeat, how do you know who I am?"_

_"Coffee. Black. 2 sugars,"_ the young male worker calls from the end of the counter.

_"That's me."_

_"Well how about you give me a call sometime and I'll tell you what you want to know?"_ Alexa says before grabbing a sharpie from next to her, scribbling a number and her name on a napkin. She then reaches out to hand it to me, all the while, pulling her bottom lip in by the top one.

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

Well it has been a while. I take the napkin from her hand and put it in my pocket.

_"I'll think about it."_ I walk away before she has a chance to respond, putting a bit more sway in my hips as I do. Grabbing my cup for the pimple faced boy who spends a bit too much time staring at my boobs, I make my way to my reason for being here. Said reason is currently sitting on the far side of a two-seater table sipping on her coffee while looking at something on her phone. Time for a little fun.

I slowly and quietly creep up to her side and whisper in her ear, _"So who ya talking to Berry?"_ She practically chokes on her drink and almost falls out of her chair. And I double over laughing because this shit is funny as hell. I have to sit down because I'm literally about to fall over for laughter. It's like that leaning over my seat, hand to chest, eyes watering type laughter.

_"Are you quite through?"_ she asks putting her cup down and bringing her hand to her chest as if to try to steady her breathing. Speaking of her chest, I just noticed that they're peeking out from the top of her dress and I just want to just…shit. I really need to stop._ "Yeah,"_ I say trying to quell the final aftershocks of a fit of laughter. _"I'm done."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah. No more laughing."_ I pause. _"Well none at least your expense."_

_"Good. Now can we get this over with?"_ She says it nicely but I can tell that she's only acting nice to be polite. Not nice to be nice.

_"Okay. So let's get this over with." _I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the warmth of the drink. The bitterness of the coffee and the sweetness of the sugar. We sit silently for a few minute, watching each other drink from our cups or occasionally looking towards the door when a new customer arrives. The silence, though a bit irritating, isn't all that unwelcome. I mean, it does give me a chance to come up with what to say to her. I just hope she doesn't get pissed again and embarrass me in the day light this time.

_"Well first I'd like to point out that I see you're still turning heads,"_ Rachel says breaking the silence.

_"Watcha mean?"_

_"You talking with that girl."_

_"Oh that. You saw that?"_ I ask like it wasn't obvious the way we were flirting. Well she was flirting. I was just engaging her in conversation.

_"Oh please. Of course I saw that. That girl practically dropped her pants and begged you to take her on the counter between the bagels and the muffins."_

_"What? You jealous?"_

_"Not even close. Just making an observation," _she tries to sound unfazed by my accusation but when she turns her head to look out the window and clears her throat, I know she's lying. I could always pick up on her tells.

_"Sure you are. But whatever. This isn't about her. This is about us."_ I put my cup down on the table.

_"I didn't know there was an 'us'."_ She questions using air quotes.

_"There used to be."_ And let the games begin.

_"Santana,"_ she groans, setting down her cup on the table and resting her hands palm down next to it.

_"No Berry. My turn to talk."_ She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

_"Considering you asked me here, go ahead."_

_"I choose to ignore that. Anyway, so...I...uh-"_

_"Let me help you out."_ Did she just interrupt me? _"How about you start by apologizing for disrespecting me the other night and then we can commence our** brief** reunion properly?"_

_"Well I was trying to until you decided to open your damn mouth and interrupt me. So can I continue?"_

_"Only if you don't curse at me the entire time."_

_"Oh please. I've always cursed. Like you've never fucking cursed in your life. Last I checked, you practically cursed me out the other night." _Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms and grin devilishly._ "And you did had a bit of the potty mouth back in the day. But we were under different circumstan-"_

_"Santana Lopez! If you don't fucking get out what you want to say, I will grab my cup and walk out of this place. And your life again."_

_"Looks like Bossy Berry is making an appearance today." She puts her coffee down on the table and sighs. Loudly. "Well fine. Look. I'm sorry for coming onto you the other night. I'm sorry if I disrespected you or whatever. I know that after everything that happened between us, it was inconsiderate of your feelings. I'd like for us to start over and talk like adults without all the yelling and bicker-."_

_"We always bicker."_

_"And stop with all the goddamn interrupting! Geez Rachel."_ I really need to stop talking before I say something really fucked up and then where will that get me? I just need to take a deep breath and count to 5…okay, maybe 10 and compose myself before I smash this woman's head on this table.

1…

2…

3…

_"Santana, what are you doing?"_

_"Counting so I don't kill you."_

4…

5…

6…

_"You cannot be serious."_

_"I'm very serious. So shut up."_

7…

8…

9…

10…

I close my eyes and take one more deep breath. When I open my eyes, Rachel is staring at me like she's not sure whether to ignore me or kill me._ "Can I speak now?" she asks._

_"Proceed."_

_"Though not the best apology. Well honestly, the one of the worst, I think it's the best I've ever heard from you."_

_"Oh thanks."_

_"Now who's interrupting?" Oh the irony. "My bad. Go 'head."_

_"So even though I shouldn't, Kurt says I should give you a second chance. And even though I'm not exactly the same person I was when you last saw me, I still believe in giving people second chances so can we just forget about it and move on."_

_"I can do that."_

_"Good."_

_"But before we completely forget about that night, can I properly point out how incredibly sexy you looked."_

_"Always the flirt."_

_"You would know."_

_"Santana. Can we not?"_

_"Why can't we? We're here to talk and now we're talking."_

_"Well can we talk about anything but that?"_

_"What? Why can't we talk about that summer."_

_"Which summer?"_

_"The summer you left me?"_

_"I didn't leave you."_

_"We broke up."_

_"Santana, we were never together."_

_"Oh so three months of movie dates, picnics in the park behind my house, midnight swims or hours of sex didn't mean we were together?"_ I sneer.

_"Santana, I don't want to talk about that."_

_"And why not? Because it'll remind you of how fucked up it was when you left me?"_

_"We were never together!"_

_"Yes we were. And don't you dare bring Finn into this because I don't even want to talk about that jackass."_

_"But he's was a part of all of what we used to be."_

_"So you admit there used to be an 'us'?"_

_"Look."_ She peers at the clock on her cell phone then takes a very deep breath. _"I don't have time for this right now."_ The fuck? It's not even eleven yet. _"So let me make this clear. I've forgiven you for your recent actions and have already gotten over it. If you wish to continue this meeting or just hang out sometime, you now have my phone number."_

_"Not really. I lost it after i called you."_

_"Well then, ask Kurt for it again." Okay. What the hell is going on right now? "__I'm working on a very important senior class project so I'm super busy these days so text me first to see if I'm available."_

_"But…"_ she puts her hand up in the air and surprising, I stop talking.

_"No. I'm talking now. If you want to find me; come find me. If you wish to speak with me about anything other than our failed whatever the hell it was **that** summer, then we can talk. Just give me a call. But right now, I have to go."_ She takes one last sip of her coffee (which is probably luke warm by now) before standing up. She starts to leave but I stop her by grabbing her by the wrist. It's soft. Smooth. Warm. Just the way I remember. She looks down at my hand wrapped around hers then looks up at me. Those eyes. Goddamn those eyes. I can't tell if they're saying 'Get the fuck off of me' or 'I'm waiting for you to say something to make me stay'. I've never been able to see up or down with this woman. And it irritates the fuck out of me. _"Santana?"_ she says softly. _"Please let go of my wrist so I can get to class."_

_"Just one more question." She doesn't respond. She just looks at me. "Okay. Why did you leave me?"_

_"Santanaaa," she groans._

_"I'm an so serious right now. Why?"_

_"If I remember correctly, I wasn't the one who disappeared off the face of the planet freshman year of college."_

_"But it was after you left me."_

_"San, I don't want to talk about this anymore. So let me go." She pulls _

_"Fine."_ So I let go. No need to keep the woman here when she obviously wants to leave.

_"Call if you want. If not; I guess I'll see you around. Nice seeing you again Santana."_

_#####_

Rachel POV

Why?

Why did she have to come back into my life? Why did I have to go to me with her? I thought I had left that part of me in the Lima when I came here. I mean. It was just one summer. One crazy summer. That started because of one crazy incident on one even more crazy night. Who would've thought that it would come back to bite me? I guess my dads were right when they said that unresolved mistakes of the past can come back to hurt in the present. But why did she have to bring us up? I should have expected it but of course, I hear her voice and I cave. Isn't interesting how I'm able to resist her with alcohol in my system but can't when I'm sober? Like how backwards is that?

Okay. Time to focus. I have musical to work on and now's the time to think about my relationship with Santana (or lack there of) right now.

After class, I stop by the apartment for a quick snack and a change of clothes before rehearsal. Of course as soon as I open the door,

"So how was the date with Miss Hotness?" Caroline asks. I know it's her because her blond hair is clear as crystal. She's sitting on the couch, facing away from the door (when did they turn the couch around?). I throw my bag by the door and completely ignoring her question, walk past the couch and into my room. I can hear her sigh, followed by foot steps and by the time I get my jacket off, she's standing in my doorpost. "I said, how was your date with Miss Hotness?" she repeats louder and more forcefully.

"It wasn't a date," I say, taking off my jacket and going picking up the pile of spare clothes I set out this morning before I met with Santana.

"Sure it wasn't. So what'd you ladies talk about?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I want to know if I need to clear the apartment out some night soon so you two can have some," she puts up air quotes " 'alone time'." I will ignore that one. I have more important things to do right now.

"Unzip me," I command, turning my back to her. She sighs and walks over to me. She quickly pulls the zipper down on my dress and as the back opens, I let it fall to the floor before stepping out of it.

"You know, you never answered my question."

"What question?" I ask, picking up my black Wicked t-shirt and putting it on.

"So what did you guys talk about?" I roll my eyes. Here we go. "Did you guys catch up? What was she wearing? Was she all hot and stuff as usual-" she will probably keep going if I don't stop her now.

"One question at a time, C. But seriously, why do you care?"

"Because I care about you. Therefore, I care about your health. And considering how busy you've been lately, it seems like your health isn't big on your concern list. And socializing is good for one's health so-"

"Where the hell are you going with this because we do have somewhere to be in," I look at my watch again, "less 50 minutes, actually."

"You need to get laid."

"Omigod," I say in disbelief.

"What? You do. And you obviously like her."

"I do not like her." Attracted maybe but like? Not really. Not anymore, at least. I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed and sunk by now. "You're crazy. Now are we done?" I pick up my jeans and one leg after another, put them on.

"Almost. Why haven't you asked her to play in Lucy in your musical?" Um, excuse what? Where the hell did that come from?

"What are you talking about?" I ask curious for this rationalization becasue, seriously. What is she playing at?

"Well we already know she can sing. We've heard her sexiness first hand. And you said she could act pretty well back in the day."

"So?"

"Well you also from what you've said about people calling her the 'daughter of Satan', I figured it would make a bunch of sense. And then maybe you guys can spend some time together and eventually end up getting really devilish somewhere naked." Omigod. I don't feel like dealing with this right now. I walk to the door and slip on my NYU flip flops. "Alright. Sure. Just ignore me. That's fine."

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm just choosing to not respond to your ridiculousness," I clarify, turning to leave my room. She follows me out of my room, through the living room and into the kitchen.

"You're only ignoring me because I'm right," she comments, crossing her arms and sitting down at the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen.

"And why do you assume that you're right?" I open the refrigerator, grab my pre-prepared rehearsal snack of a cucumber sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water.

"Because as much as I love Sarah, from my experience, it seems like you want something more for the role. Something or someone with more power. More fire. And Santana seems to have both. And more." She smirks and runs one hand through her blonde locks. "Well that and she's hotter than the sun so that's a definite bonus." I swear this girl is repressed or something because if she mentions how hot Santana is one more time, I just might call her out.

"I have to go," I say, closing the fridge and leaving the kitchen.

"At least think about it!" she calls from the table as I pick up my bag and open the front door.

"Whatever. Just don't be late to rehearsal," I shout back before closing the door with more force than I should.

Santana as Lucy? I mean, the idea had crossed my mind a few times since she decided to sneak her way back into my life but after actually talking to her, the idea swiftly dissipated. What makes Caroline think that Santana and I will be able to work on a project together? Sure we've sung duets together in the past but this project is my life. This is my chance to show the world that Rachel Berry isn't just some little woman with ambition and a big voice.

But Caroline is right. If there was no past between us and some girl named Santana Lopez walked into my audition, sang, danced and acted like I know she can, she would have gotten the role no question. But if I ask her (meaning that I have call her again), will she be willing to ignore our past in order to make this musical an success? Can we put aside our differences to work professionally? I guess the important question is, will I be able to forget the past when it'll be looking me in the face for the next month or so?

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><p><strong>Well there you have it. Hope you liked. What do you think about Alexa? She will return but how is up to debate. Also, Santana performing at the Blue Mic club is coming soon. Any votes for what song she should be performing? Any fun things you all want to see in the next update or the near future?<br>Questions? Concerns? Challenges? Let me know.**

** Till next time **


	9. Chapter 8

**HELLO GANG! I'm back! I know it's been a helluva a long time since I updated anything and I apologize for that but that's because with summer school, summer job and the death of a family friend, I didn't really have the drive to write a lot. But I've had time to get better with things and now I have some good things for y'all. First off, I'm going to post shorter chapters so I can update more often. Thanks for all the alerts and favorites and review and if you're still interested in reading, thanks for sticking around and waiting for me to get my life together so I can entertain you all. I really appreciate all of you :D**

**So for this new installment, it's Rachel's POV. There has been a bit of a time jump. A few weeks ****since the last chapter t****o be exact. Some interesting things are in store for our favorite ladies and not all of it is good. So stay tuned and as always, don't forget to review.**

**disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing but all mistakes are mine.**

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><p><strong><em>Previously...<em>**

_Santana as Lucy? I mean, the idea had crossed my mind a few times since she decided to sneak her way back into my life but after actually talking to her, the idea swiftly dissipated. What makes Caroline think that Santana and I will be able to work on a project together? Sure we've sung duets together in the past but this project is my life. This is my chance to show the world that Rachel Berry isn't just some little woman with ambition and a big voice._

_But Caroline is right. If there was no past between us and some girl named Santana Lopez walked into my audition, sang, danced and acted like I know she can, she would have gotten the role no question. But if I ask her (meaning that I have call her again), will she be willing to ignore our past in order to make this musical an success? Can we put aside our differences to work professionally? I guess the important question is, will I be able to forget the past when it'll be looking me in the face for the next month or so?_

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><p><strong>And now...<strong>

"OW!" Oh shit.

"I am so sorry."

"Well if you don't stop stepping on my fucking feet, I will beat you so damn hard that skittles will come right out of your big Perez Hilton looking ass!"

Oh great. I walk away from the dance studio for a minute to get some water and to use the bathroom and all hell breaks loose. That pun was actually intended because today is Santana's first day (and first dance rehearsal) since agreeing to play the role of Lucy in my musical. Thus far, she has insulted and/or nicknamed just about everyone in the cast, has slapped Gavin in the back of the head for being (and I quote) "un idiota grasa, falta de coordinación" (I think I heard that correctly. My Spanish is still a bit rusty), cursed out Becky for teaching her the choreography too slowly (still can't believe they slept together) and yelled at Caroline for singing too pitchy (I agree with her on that one but she didn't have to yell at her for it). So basically, Santana's been an absolute horror. If I would have known that she would act like this, I wouldn't have asked her to join the cast.

And oddly, it didn't take much for her to agree. I just called her up, explained my dire situation, padded her ego a bit and she just agreed to do it. To say I was shocked is an understatement.

But now the 'two weeks until opening' is in effect and I don't have time to deal with her shit. We have too much work that needs to be done for an episode of "Snix Takes a Turn at Acting".

"SANTANA!" I yell as I open the door to the studio.

"WHAT?!" she snaps. Okay. Thin ice. But right now I need to remain demure and professional. So I take a deep breath before calmly walking over to the irritated woman.

"Can I speak with you outside for a moment?" I say, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her towards the door.

"But-"

"Now." I drag her out of the dance studio and into the hallway.

Once outside, she yanks her elbow out of my hand and I swear, I am too close to strangling her. "What the hell is your damn problem?" I ask her keeping my voice down so not to let the entire cast hear me.

"My problem with what?" she asks like she doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about.

"Do you hate this? Do you have a problem with the cast? With the musical?"

"Who says I have a problem with the musical?" The great Lord is testing my patience today. How I ever thought I could still have feelings for this woman, I have idea.

"Your damn attitude all rehearsal, that's what!" She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "You've been a pain in my ass this entire time and I want to know why."

"I'm not a morning person," she says with a devilish grin. God, I'm seriously thinking about strangling her right here in the hallway. As long as I do so quietly, I can get rid of her and no will know the wiser.

"Bullshit Santana. It's almost 6 o'clock in the evening. And we've been here for less than 2 hours. So 'not a morning person' my ass."

"Whoa. Berry's got a potty mouth. Better inform the authorities that Berry's gone rogue." Now if I drag her body into the bathroom and put her scarf around her neck, then it will look like it got caught on something by accident. Yeah. That might work.

"Listen. This is really important to me and if you're insistent on making a mockery of my work, then I'm about 2 seconds from kicking you off the musical," I threaten, hoping that she gets how furious and fed up I am

"But if you do," she takes a step closer to me, "where will that leave you?" What? "If you kick me out, I go home and go to sleep. But you, oh pint size director, lose your lead. So I ask again, where will that leave you?" Damn. She's right. I can't just get rid of her. No matter how much I want to. No matter how many various types of homicide I may concoct, I can't lose my lead. Not after all that I've had to go through to get her here. And she is just perfect for my vision of Lucy. Even if she is a constant reminder of my complicated past. It all has to be worth it in the end.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "You can stay."

"Of course I can," she says smirking.

"You're a smug bitch, you know that?"

"You used to consider my over confidence to be a real turn on."

"Santana," I warn.

"What? You did," she challenges.

"Look Santana,-"

"I am looking and I can see that hot director Rachel is starting to get pissed with me for bringing up a forbidden past."

"You're damn right I'm pissed at you!" I yell, finally snapping. "And not just because of that. I'm pissed because you've been causing hell all rehearsal. And the worst part is you don't even seem to care or feel sorry for it. Right now I just want to know why?" Then it hits me. "Is it because I keep rejecting you?" She rolls her eyes.

"Oh please," she scoffs. "You're hot and me and you do have an intense history but that wouldn't affect my ability to work hard and put on a performance. I can't stand half of the band that plays for me at the Blue Mic but I still shut it down every night I sing."

"Okay, then why then?"

"Can I be blunt?"

"Hasn't stopped you before." More eye rolling.

"Ignoring that, I'm going to level with you for a quick sec. the only reason I'm acting like an uber bitch today is to push your ragtag bunch of misfits you call a cast."

"Okay. What the hell are you talking about?" She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

"You have two weeks till opening, right?"

"Yes. So?"

"So? Well with just the little time I've had to rehearse for this musical, I've been able to pick up on the choreography that Becka's taught me, learn most of the music that Caroline's taught me and learn 85 percent of the lines you gave me."

"Well done. Your point?"

"My point is, oh dwarf sized diva," I roll my eyes, "that your precious cast is seriously lacking in the work ethic sector."

"They what?"

"They're slacking. At least according to my standards."

"You've been here for less than 2 hours. How can you possibly say that? I'm genuinely curious."  
>"Because-e-e, most of you cast is still on script." True. But I have been trying to get them off of it for a week now. "Perez Hilton,-"<p>

"Gavin," I correct.

"Like it matters," she comments. "Anyway, Perez in there knows the dances about as well as I do."

"But you said you picked up the choreography?"

"I did. But he's been learning it for like weeks or some shit like that. He should knew that shit like the back of his fucking manicured hand."

"Whatever."

"Now your instructors. Your dear, dear friends are giving way too much slack to those who have either showed up late or not dressed or whatever. Now I may be irrational, irritable and confrontational sometimes."

"Sometimes?" She gives me a 'duh' look. "Try always. And don't forget inappropriate, rude and a smart ass," I comment.

"Yeah. Well. Whatever. I may be all those things but when I accept to do a job, I do it to the best of my abilities. No matter what. And I'm not going to participate in some whack ass musical and embarrass myself because you couldn't crack the damn whip Miss Director." I hate to admit this but…

She's right.

Oh so right.

"Okay. So you may be right."

"Of course I am."

"Will you stop that?" She just shrugs. "Whatever. Fine. So what are these 'standards of performance' you are so adamant on meeting?"

"Well it's actually pretty simple. I've had these standards for years now. I use them whenever I get ready to go on stage and I haven't stranded from them since I was taught them."

"Okay. Now I'm curious. Who taught you these oh so important performance standards?"

"Oh just some pint sized dynamo I used to be with back in the day named Rachel Berry." Not again.

"Santana, I'm pretty sure my standards that you know do not match the ones I have today. We haven't spoken in nearly four years. A lot has changed since then."

"Do you not still think that every moment is a moment to put on a performance? Just like Kurt thinks that every moment is a moment for fashion." I do. "And do you not still think that if you don't put 110 percent into the performance, that you might as well have not even showed up?" I do. "And your lack of a response tells me that I'm right."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you."

I try not to blush but when I look at the sincere look in her eyes (her eyes that are so mystifying that it's hard to believe that I haven't cracked under their gaze yet), my body acts on instinct and betrays me. I can literally feel the blood in my body heat and travel through my body to my face. Why can't I just have a moment of mental peace? Everything is so hot and cold. One minute Santana is flirting with me and trying her hardest to get in to sleep with her. The next she's all honest, and sincere and remembering things about me that I've gotten so used to that I've forgotten about. I've been trying to move past everything that happened then but how can I when she keeps tossing it back into my face?

"Santana, you don't know me anymore. I'm a very different person now," I say firmly believing in my words. She shakes her head.

"No you're not. You think for some reason that you've changed so much since your train ride to the Big Apple four years ago but you aren't that different." I scoff. "Okay sure. Your clothes are less like the freaky fetish of some Japanese business man and more like that of a normal person but you're still the same headstrong, stubborn as hell, ambitious, talented, pain in my fucking ass," I gasp, dramatically putting my hand over my heart and she laughs, "that you've always been." You see? This is the Santana I can deal with. And have. This is the Santana I would like to have coffee with. This is the Santana I saw singing her heart out on the stage at the Blue Mic. This is the Santana that I spent that summer with. This is the Santana I started to fall for.

"See there? Where was," I poke her on the shoulder playfully, "this Santana at the Blue Mic that night? You know the one where you practically propositioned me?"

"I did not proposition you," she argues.

"Practically. But either way, this version I see in front of me is a lot sweeter than the one I saw then."

"I don't know about sweeter. And maybe that night this version was in the bathroom or something and Snix decided to take over the 'hit on the hottest girl in the club' shift?"

"Yeah maybe. But if sweet Santana would have talked to me instead of Snix, then maybe we could have avoided all the angst."

"Oh please Rachel. We had a secret affair that summer after senior year before you bounced to New York, " I sigh, "and we haven't seen or talked to each other in years. And now we're working very closely together without actually talking about what went down. There's no way not to have angst." I nod because she's right. Again. Ever since the first slushy, our relationship has been one of ups and downs. And then when feelings of hate turned to feelings of passion and affection, it just got complicated. Now with years of mystery, the lack of closure and the obvious lingering desire, things are even more complicated.

I'm about to respond when the door to the dance studio opens and Caroline (with a little bit of Becka's head peeking around her) pokes her head out.

"Hey Rach. Will you stop trying to 'not' make out with Santana and get back in here?" Oh dear Lord. "We do have a rehearsal to continue." Looks like tack less Caroline strikes again. Santana cracks up and I glare at my soon-to-be ex-roommate. She smiles and winks at the both of us before disappearing back into the studio. As soon as the door closes, I breathe a sigh of relief. Though obnoxious, Caroline's interruption wasn't all that unwanted.

Santana eventually stops laughing and when she does, her face softens and she looks at me grinning. "So why on earth would the playboy bunny reject think that we would be out here making out?" she asks, still grinning.

"I haven't a clue," I lie.

"Oh really? Has little Rachie been talking about me to her friends?" she teases.

"No," I lie again. She arches an eyebrow.

"Sure. Even though I don't believe you, I'll let it go so we can practice so I can get out of here and back to people I actually like. So we done here?"

"For the moment," I respond.

"Well cool." She turns around and starts to walk back to the studio but I grab her by the wrist, successfully stopping her.

"Behave," I demand. She turns her head and looks me in the eyes. Dear Lord, help me.

"You know better than anyone that I never behave," she winks, opens the door and enters the studio.

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><p><strong>So how'd I do? Good? Bad? Just alright? I'm still getting back to the writing thing so if this needs work, feel free to let me know. <strong>

**Till next time**

**-Jenae**


	10. Chapter 9

**So two updates in one day? Cool huh? I'm surprised as well. Well this one is from Santana's POV and that's all I'm gonna say. Hope you enjoy**

**disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes.**

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><p><strong>HOLY. SWEET. HELL.<strong>

Who knew that Berry was such a slave driver when put in charge? I've only been rehearsing with her and her merry band of musical ladies and gays for like 3 days now and already I've been tripped, dropped, yelled at, scolded and hit on (which was mostly by Caroline because 98.9% of the guys here are actually gay and she has her "tendencies" when it comes to me. But who wouldn't? I mean, have you seen me in sweats and a sport bra?) Anyway, I haven't done this much work since high school. Okay sure. I go for runs almost every morning and I practice my singing with the boys and I sure as hell get a workout randomly fucking anonymous girls till they see stars but acting, singing, and dancing for 4 hours straight, 3 days in a row? Craziness. My voice, mind and body all ache.

But it hasn't been all bad. I have been able to spend those 3 days with Rachel. Now we still have an ass load of shit to work through and most of the time she's directing me, not really talking to me but regardless, it's pleasant, angst (mostly) free time together. At first, when I saw her at the Blue Mic, all I wanted to do was mess with her head a bit. Flirt with her through song, make her miss what she gave up and then, if she was willing after all these years, maybe even sleep with her just for old time's sake. But when she rejected me, I wanted to get back at her.

But something inside won't let me hurt her. Especially not after how badly she hurt me. I wouldn't wish that kind of heartache on anyone. So here I am. Working with her and every day the feelings I thought I buried with our failed relationship start to resurface. And fuck if they aren't still strong as ever.

So of course, I play around with them. I'm no less obvious about my flirting. Shameless, I know. But why not? It has been sometime since my last hook up and even though I'm starting to have feelings for Rachel again, doesn't mean I want to have sex her any less. Hell, more actually. And if you could see her in dance pants and a tank top, you'd be trying to get all up on that too. The problem? Rachel's keeping me at arm's length. I've tried to get closer to her but not much has transpired. Although she has been a bit more playful about pushing me away. Take today for example. I swear she was flirting back a bit this time. I may have been imagining things (girls can be naturally pretty flirty) but then again, the Rachel from that summer used to flirt in a certain way that is pretty special to her. She used to stand really close to me and ever so slightly find some way (whether hidden or obvious) to make physical contact. Whether the nudge of a shoulder. Or the graze of the fingertips on some bare skin. Or sometimes even something as obvious as brushing a strand of hair out of my face or holding onto my hand. Today was just a nudge of the shoulder day after I made some smart ass joke about Caroline being so far in the closet that her fashion has improved since the first time I saw her. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Or at least I didn't want to think about it. Me being still a bit hurt about how things ended between us. But when she giggled and looked at me with that coy little grin of hers that was only reserved for me that summer, I knew I wasn't making it up.

So what the fuck should I do with this info?

It's clear that Rachel's happier with us pretending like nothing happened and just being friends. Hell, she doesn't even want me to talk about that summer. I mean, sure, I spent nearly 4 years trying to pretend it didn't happen too. Sleeping with one girl after another just to get the thought of her out of my mind. Only to then kick them out on their asses with no regret like she dumped me.

But maybe I can find a way for us to start fresh.

Start over.

Clean slate.

Trust my intuition.

But if my instincts are right and Rachel does magically decide to remember everything we did together in the past and give us a second chance, how am i sure that she won't cast me aside again?

But then again, it's not like I was the fucking one to walk away from us like that whole fucking summer meant nothing. She did. After everything, she walked away. After all we did together. After all the secrets we told. The hugs, kisses and "I love you's" we shared, she picked him. One too many times I've been someone's second choice. Britt did it. She did it. How many times can someone's heart break before the pieces are too small to put back together again? I may be strong but I'm also devastatingly broken.

Broken

Fuck. So everybody's right. Kevin. Calvin. Rachel. There is something wrong with me. I'm broken. Irreversibly damaged. I'm like a broken vase with some strong ass tape on it. Covered in layers of protective adhesive to prevent me from falling to pieces and a bunch of pretty colors to hide the tape. But remove the paint and the layers and you'll find that I'm just the same old broken vase from before. Vulnerable, insecure and so unsure of so many things.

And they want me to change? How am I expected to change when I've gotten so used to hiding how I feel? Hell, I hid the fact that I like girls for years. Why can't I do the same thing with the fact that I miss being loved? Do I need to be fixed like everyone says? Is there even a way to be fixed? Or is this the way it's supposed to be? The way I'm supposed to be?

Okay, okay, okay. Way too much introspection for one afternoon (Rachel had an early morning rehearsal. Which, by definition, is a sin against humanity) and I'm in dire need for coffee.

#####

Why the fuck are there so many damn people at Starbuck's? In the afternoon? On a Tuesday? Like, is it some special day or something? Because if it is, I wasn't informed. And since I've recently become one of their frequent customers (blame Rachel, her ridiculous need for coffee and her insistence on having all musical related meetings here. My wallet has suffered a bit but it's totally worth it. Their lattes are like, fucking amazing) I feel very much offended.

When I get to the front of the long ass line (after like 20 minutes or so) guess who's standing behind the counter, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat? Starbucks's biggest Santana Lopez fan and possible stalker: Alexa something or other.

"Well haven't seen you around these parts lately," she says, jumping right into the flirting, completely ignoring the facts that **A.** she is working, **B.** I'm not really in the mood to flirt right now (if I was, I would because she does look pretty hot today even in her Starbucks get up) and **C.** there are like 5 other people behind me.

"Well I've been here. You just haven't," I say dismissively.

"I had to take some time off to visit my family in Ohio."

"Ohio, huh?" she nods. "Cool." I could continue this little chat by asking where in Ohio she's from and mentioning that I'm also from that fuck state or some shit like that but I really just want my damn coffee. "Now can I just have a tall black coffee?" She sighs.

"Right to the point. Okay then. So, a tall black coffee with 2 sugars, right?"

"I didn't say 2 sugars," I comment, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

"I know you didn't but I remember that's how you got it last time. So I figured that was how you liked it." I don't think she meant for that to be an innuendo but it sure as hell sounds like it. But then again since I'm always horny as hell just about everything hot girls say can be construed into something sexual. I guess it can't hurt to engage. See if I have a little bit of flirt in me.

I look her up and down and she smirks like she's done something amazing by remembering my coffee order.

"Well you're luck you're right," I comment.

"I guess I am. Even though you never called," she teases, picking up a coffee cup and jotting down my name before handing it to yet another pimple faced boy who takes a very obvious interest in my boobs (I guess wearing a tight, low cut, V-cut t-shirt would warrant such attention).

"Been busy," I reply pulling a ten dollar bill from my jean pocket and handing it to her. "Keep the change."

"Thanks. And I'm sure," she says taking the bill. "Well when you get less busy or are in a need of a break, hit me up. Maybe we can catch a movie or something like that." Who is this girl and why is she so determined to get me to go out with her?

Wait.

Why the fuck am I not jumping on this? Or her more accurately? I'm not seeing anyone. It's been like, weeks since I last got laid and sure, I may have some complicated feelings developing for Rachel but she's not showing any promise for anything more than friends in the near future and I have needs. Besides, I could use a break from all this musical shit.

"Fine. Let's do it," I say making up my mind.

"Do what?" she asks suddenly confused like she didn't just ask me out like a minute ago. And I just realized that all the people behind me are probably about to kill me.

"Go out. You. Me. Tonight. Dinner and dancing. 8 pm. I'll call you with all the dets later. Cool?"

"Frosty," she answers, grinning like a Cheshire cat again.

"Alright. I guess I'll see you later," I say just as my name is called.

#####

So my instincts about recognizing Alexa were right after all. It turns out that when she went to visit her family in Ohio, she went to visit them in Lima. And then she visited her friends at her old high school. Which so happens to be my alma mater, the "immaculate" McKinley High. Apparently she graduated a couple years after me. It was just sheer coincidence that we met up again.

As expected, she agreed to the dinner and dancing combo for our date or whatever. Since I'm the one with a car (not bitch notes on it now), I picked her up at her apartment. Turns out that out of that Starbucks uniform, she's much hotter. Like much, much hotter. When I picked her up, I almost had to do a double take to make sure that the girl standing outside of the apartment building was the same girl from the Starbucks. She replaced the Starbucks' apron with a blue button up, a black tie tied loosely around her neck, and a pair of black skinny jeans that accentuate her hips that only her Italian heritage could give her. And she wears skinny jeans like...just...wow. Okay, she doesn't wear them better than me but still. She let her hair hang down tonight and topped off the outfit with the sexiest black fedora. With me in my favorite red and black striped mini dress and 4 inch black pumps, we are definitely the hottest couple out tonight. As a compromise, I let her pick the restaurant while I picked the club. She picked some little Italian restaurant that disturbingly reminds me of Breadstix. Just the bread sticks aren't as good. Regardless, dinner went pretty good.

Alexa is actually pretty cool. This is the first date I've been on where the more I talked to the girl, the more I wanted to actually listen to what she has to say and not just stare at the boobs wondering what she sounds like climaxing. She's a sophomore at NYU studying physics in hopes of becoming a civil engineer. So she's pretty damn smart too.

"What the hell is a civil engineer in respects to a regular engineer?" I ask, taking a bite out of one of the "almost as good as Breadstix" breadsticks. That gets her attention and she immediately straightens up in her seat across from me.

"Well, there isn't just one type of engineer," she starts. "A civil engineer is one that constructs houses and bridges and waterways and shit like that."

"Wow. So that's what you want to do?"

"Well yeah. I'm planning on going to some developing countries to build houses and sustainable waterways that hopefully won't get destroyed the second I leave."

"Well I've burned a bunch of bridges in my lifetime; you think you could construct some new ones?" I suggest, half-jokingly.

"Only if you want them to burn again. I got a lot more classes I need to take before I can do any actual building," she says laughing and surprisingly, her laughing makes me laugh.

"Damn. Well I thought I'd ask."

She's funny, intelligent, interesting, bright, hot, one hell of a dresser and did I mention hot? Normally at this point I wouldn't even be considering a second date but hey, if things go my way (and hers) there may be a chance for one. Who knows?

After dinner, we go dancing. I pick a club (not the Blue Mic because **A.** who takes a date to their place of business?** B.** Kevin will be working tonight and I don't feel dealing with his judgmental shit. And **C.** they don't really have a dance floor so dancing is out of the question) that has the best drinks , the weakest security (she is only 19 after all), popular but not too "poppy" music (I love Britney but after her like, 4th comeback, that bitch really needs to take a seat ), and a great V.I.P. section that with the right connections to get in, can be the best place to get quite intimate with someone of interest.

We get to the club at around 10:30. There isn't that big of a line out tonight because it is a weekday so we get in pretty quickly. And pretty easily because it's only 21+ after 11pm. Well that and I know the bouncer and we're both hot as hell. Once inside, I immediately scan the place and notice that there aren't that many people around. But there's just enough to create a good enough club environment to make me want to stay. Music pumping. At least 30 or so people on the dance floor working up a sweat or getting all worked up. Or maybe working up a sweat while getting all worked up? Looks like some big spenders are lounging behind closed curtains in the V.I.P. section and lucky for us, the bar is pretty empty.

"So, what do you want to do first?" I ask. "Drink first or dance first?" She looks around and when her brow crinkles as she thinks, just the way she does it, I don't want to find it adorable but I totally do. "Or maybe makeout first?" I suggest testing the waters. She looks at me with narrowed eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Santana Lopez, what kind of girl do you think I am?" she asks, crossing her arms. Time to turn on the Lopez charm.

"Not sure. But I was hoping you would show me real soon." She bites her bottom lip and goddammit, why does such a simple action always turn me on?

"Well, how about we do a couple of shots? Then we dance? Sound good?" she suggests. "I don't want to waste too much before I get a chance to get closer to you." I smirk. "Not that close," she corrects.

"Damn," I say half kidding, half serious. Okay, mostly serious with a hint of joking because I really want to get really, really close to her right now.

"Well I'm sorry Miss Lopez but you have to do more than just buy me dinner (yup. I paid) to get in my pants." She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "But I like your enthusiasm," she adds before brushing past me on the way to the bar.

It really must be a long time since I've gotten some because my body is like super sensitive right now. Like how can something as small as a fucking peck on the cheek (not even on the lips) set my entire body on fire? But something's not right. This isn't how the Lopez charm works. She's the one supposed to be all hot and bothered by the slightest of touches from me. I'm supposed to be the one in control. Not the other way around.

Okay. Time to up my game and literally woo the panties off this girl. If she isn't in my bed by the end of the night clutching my sheets and moaning my name, I've definitely lost my touch.

I join her at the bar where there are already 4 shots of Tequila (my favorite) spread out in front of her on the counter. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink so I kept it classic. I hope this is fine," she says innocently.

"Absolutely," I answer hopping onto the bar stool next to her. She picks up two of the shot glasses, hands one to me and raises hers.

"Shall we make a toast?" she asks.

"A toast to what exactly?"

"Um… how about a toast to first dates and if you're lucky, more?"

"Well aren't you a smug one?" I say, clinking my shot glass with hers before bringing it to my mouth and in one smooth motion, downing all the contents in the shot glass. Damn that feels good. I haven't had serious drink in a few days (with the musical and all) so the all too familiar warmth coursing through my body feels so fucking good. And relaxing.

"Hey well when I look like this," she gestures to her body, "I can' help but be confident." When she finishes, she brings one of the shot glasses to her mouth and throwing her head back, downs the shot just like I did. But, like it's some contest and she's trying to prove a point, she takes the other shot and downs it too without even wincing. Damn. Why is she so fucking hot? If I don't get her on the dance floor and pressed up against me soon, I might just lose it and take her right here on the bar. Decency be damned.

"Well I'm not going to disagree with that," I say evening the score by downing the second shot. Okay. Yeah. That buzz should come pretty soon. I think it's time to get some dancing in, maybe some club couch time. Then (if I'm lucky) a quick trip back to my apartment for a night of sweaty, fun filled release. "So dancing now?" she suggests, like she was reading my mind.

"Sure. Why not?" She smiles and hops down from the bar stool, landing in front of me. She reaches out her hand, grabs a loose hold of my collar and pulls me to my feet. She walks backwards, slowly guiding me to the dance floor. The entire time her eyes stay locked on mine. Under the dark lighting of the club and her black eyeliner, her normally brown eyes are nearly as black as her tie. And it's sexy as hell. As soon as we hit the dance floor, she turns me around, grabs a hold of my hips and pulls my ass into her front. Okay then. Not used to this when I'm out with a girl but I'll go with it. I press my ass further into her and start grinding into her to the beat. She keeps pace and when she puts her hands across my stomach and gently kisses my neck, I'm pretty sure that the heat going through my body isn't just from the alcohol anymore.

Oh. Fuck yeah.

This is going to be a fun night.

* * *

><p><strong>Roh uh. Now that Alexa has captured Santana's interest, what will this mean for Pezberry? Will she just be a one night stand or something more (hint hint)? Stay tuned and as always, review.<strong>

**Till next time**

**-Jenae**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey Gang! So first, thanks for all the reviews and alerts and favorites. You guys keep me writing :) Now this is a short one from Rachel's POV that I just had to get this one out while I work on a much longer one that will follow. So stay tuned. **

**Enjoy and as always, review.**

**disclaimer: I own nothing except Caroline. **

* * *

><p>"So how was your talk with Miss Sexy Ass Lopez?" Caroline asks me on our way back to our apartment after dinner.<p>

"I swear you're either really good at faking gayness or you're actually gay. Or half gay. Or at least into girls in some way or another," I comment from the passenger side of the car. "And we didn't talk about anything really. Just me trying to be a director by maintaining control of my cast and crew as well as making sure I have the respect from all those working under me."

"I'm sure Santana wants you under her," she tries to say under her breath but quiet isn't really her forte.

"You do know you suck at whispering, right?"

"Okay, well then I'll just say it to your face. I said I'm sure Santana wants you under her," she practically yells.

"Okay. There was no need for that."

"Yeah well, whatever."

"Yeah well, whatever," I mock. "Besides, it's so not true."

"Not true? Are you seriously fucking kidding me right now?" I nod despite the fact that I know that Santana wants to get with me. Well, at least have sex with me. She hasn't exactly been subtle. She's made her intentions pretty clear since the day I was at the Blue Mic and she propositioned me. "You are such a fucking liar!" she exclaims. "There has been so much sexual tension between the two of you that I'm just waiting for the day when I see her out of your room in one of your oversized T-shirts."

"She used to like it better when I wore one of her shirts," I say without thinking. Caroline gasps and practically slams on the brakes.

"Excuse me, what?!" she screams, whipping her head around so fast that I catch some of her hair in my face and mouth.

"Dammit Caroline!" I yell, pulling blonde strands from my tongue.

"Sorry but what is this you say about her liking to have you wear her clothes?"

"Did I say that?" Shit.

"Yes ma'am you did." I mentally recap the last 2 minutes and... Dammit. I did say that. I really need to pay more attention to the words that come out of my mouth. Not like I have my entire life but still. Any more spills like that and I might just accidently reveal everything. And I am not ready to go back down that complicated clusterfuck of a road again. "So I feel like there's a hell of a lot more to you and Santana's relationship than just high school frenemies. A lot more. So spill."

"Not going to happen."

"Oh come on. We already know that Becka had sex with her and she's supposed to be straight. So sexually clearly couldn't have been a factor back then. Now I know you've only been out as gay for a few years now, but are you trying to tell me all that sexual tension I see sparking between the two of you is just in my imagination?" Yes. "That all that doesn't come from somewhere? A thought to be extinguished flame? Maybe a very dirty, freaky past?" She wiggles her eyebrows and I don't know if I want to roll my eyes or smack her across the face. I go with the non-violence approach and roll my eyes.

"Correct."

"Lies."

"No it's not."

"Liar."

"Will you stop sounding like a broken record?"

"Not until you talk." I shake my head. "Oh okay. Sure. That's fine. Keep denying it. But someday you're going to have to open up about what happened." Hell no, I don't. "It might even be therapeutic. It's clear that whatever went down between you two, really affected you both because in the last few years that I've known you, I have never seen you this bent out of shape. And it started right around the time Santana came back into your life. Now what I'm wondering is what was so bad that you won't even tell your best friends?" As she talks, I start of feel the all familiar twist in my stomach that I get when I'm about to cry. And sure enough, seconds later, I feel them start to well up in the corners of my eyes.

"I want to tell you guys. I really do," the tears start to tumble over my eyelids and slowly cascade down the front of my face. "But I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it. Because talking about reminds me that it happened and I can't deal with that."

"Well having Santana around already does that so might as well tell someone. It's going to happen eventually."

"Yes but eventually doesn't have to be now."

"How about you just give me the basics?" Damn she is persistent.

I sigh.

"Fine," I concede.

"Okay. If it'll make it easier, I'll ask some questions and all you have to do is answer them yes or no. Okay?" I nod. "Cool. So were you and Senorita Hotness ever involved in a relationship that was not platonic?" I nod, the tears flowing more freely. "Figured. Okay so how serious was this romantic relationship?" I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"We were together for almost an entire summer," I admit for the first time in years.

"Interesting. A summer fling. They happen all that time. Hell, I've had some many summer flings that I've lost count. So what went wrong?"

"I was with someone else at the time and in the end, I chose that someone else over her and she left." Why is this a lot harder to talk about than I thought? "Can we drop it now?"

"So you were with someone else, had a summer fling with Miss Sexy and then picked that someone else? Well damn. That's fucked up."

"Don't you think I know that ? Now can we move on? Please?" I beg.

"But wait, if you broke it off with her because of someone else, why are you so beat up about it?" Did she hear a word I just said? "Shouldn't she be the angry one who doesn't want to talk about it?" She was. But it's been nearly 4 years. Who knows what kind of emotional battles she's had to deal with over the years to get to where she is now.

Almost completely numb to the past.

"I mean, probably. But she wasn't the one who was dating two people at once. Only to choose to stay with the one who was worst for them."

"Wait, are you talking about that guy you broke up with at the end of freshman year? Uh, what was his name? Antler? Flipper? Dorsal?"

"Finn," I answer even though saying his name leaves a foul taste in my mouth.

"Yeah. Finn. Was it him who you left her for?" I put my head down and look at the floor of the car.

_Flashback_

_ "You're choosing him?!" I hear Santana yell from behind me. "After everything we've fucking been through together, you're just gonna fucking pick him over me and leave?" I start to respond but decide against it. Nothing I can say will make this any easier. So instead, I continue to put my things in my suitcase. "Oh. Okay. Sure. Don't fucking answer me. That's totally fine. Just run away like a little bitch." _

_ "Santana that's uncalled for!" I snap, turning around to finally face her. Bad idea. Because the Santana I'm looking now isn't the same one I fell in love with. Clothes disheveled. Hair tossed up in a messy ponytail. Makeup smeared. Mascara colored tear stain trails down her face that I know I am responsible for. In front of me is broken woman. And I broke her._

_End flashback_

I shake my head violently to try to erase the memory. But all I can manage is to shut it up. For now. "Rach, are you okay?" Caroline asks softly, taking her right hand off the steering wheel and gently resting in on my shoulder. I continue to shake my head. "What happened sweetie?"

"I…I…I broke…broke her heart," I stuttered, choking back tears again. "I broke her." As we stop at a red light, Caroline looks at me and seeing the pained look on my face, reaches across the center console and pulls me into a tight hug. I had hoped that the hug would stop the tears but it only makes it easier to cry. "We're done,okay?" she whispers into my shoulder. I nod. "Okay. No more talk today. No more."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so that ended a little weird but oh well. Some levity ahead. What to expect next...<strong>

**1. More of Santana/Alexa (Santexa? Alextana? Any mashup name ideas?)**

**2. More musical rehearsal with an interesting Pezberry duet**

**3. More on who Alexa really is**

**4. The return of Luis and Kevin**

**AND...**

**5. More flashbacks leading up to entire chapter devoted to "that summer"**

**So stay tuned.**

**Also, if you're also a Brittana fan, check out this story from one of my tumblr friends. I recommend it because it's really good so far. Here's the link to her story: /s/8549452/1/To-Brittany-With-love  
><strong>

**Till next time**

**-Jenae**


	12. Chapter 11

**So I probably should go into some long explanation as to why I haven't updated in a while but that would take away from you actually reading the story so I'm just going to say that college is no joke when you're trying to graduate in the spring. **

**But first, thanks for all the reviews and alerts. You all are the absolute best for sticking with me and this and putting up with my long breaks between updates. For that, I am eternally grateful. Second, for all you Santexa fans, some hot fun with them in this chapter. But fear not Pezberry fans (which is why you are even reading this story), there's some Pezberry interaction here too (But definitely more to come )**

**enjoy and review**

**disclaimer: I own nothing but Caroline, Gavin and Alexa**

* * *

><p><em>Previously on Santana and Alexa's date...<em>

_"So dancing now?" she suggests, like she was reading my mind._

_"Sure. Why not?" She smiles and hops down from the bar stool, landing in front of me. She reaches out her hand, grabs a loose hold of my collar and pulls me to my feet. She walks backwards, slowly guiding me to the dance floor. The entire time her eyes stay locked on mine. Under the dark lighting of the club and her black eyeliner, her normally brown eyes are nearly as black as her tie. And it's sexy as hell. As soon as we hit the dance floor, she turns me around, grabs a hold of my hips and pulls my ass into her front. Okay then. Not used to this when I'm out with a girl but I'll go with it. I press my ass further into her and start grinding into her to the beat. She keeps pace and when she puts her hands across my stomach and gently kisses my neck, I'm pretty sure that the heat going through my body isn't just from the alcohol anymore._

_Oh. Fuck yeah._

_This is going to be a fun night._

* * *

><p><strong>And<strong>** now...**

_Santana POV_

I can honestly say that this is the first time I've genuinely had a fun time out with a girl. And we haven't even had sex yet. Now some might say that I'm being presumptuous by assuming that me and Alexa are even going to have sex but 1) I wouldn't be on this date if not for the prospect of sex. I haven't seriously dated someone since Rachel and after that crashed and burned in the abyss known as hell, I'm not going down that dating road again. No strings. No feelings. No more heartache. And 2) I can tell that she's just as eager to get close to me as I am to get on top of her. So why not capitalize on her want?

We've danced for almost an hour and I don't think I've ever been this turned on from just dancing. The way she moves is almost too perfect. Her dancing is like a delicious combo of Brittany and Rachel. Sexy and precise like Britt yet sensual and seductive with a hint of teasing like Rachel. For a while she stayed behind me, letting me set the cadence. Letting me decide on how we were going to move and how fast or slow. And all the while, she kept up. Every dip or bend or grind or roll I did, she was right there. Although not on the "right there" I want her to be but close enough because the friction created between the two of us is the enough to send heat right to my core and dammit if I don't kiss her.

And why the fuck not? With Waka Flocka's "No Hands" (one of the throwback jams of the night) blasting through the speakers creating a sweaty, lust filled environment, I reach behind me, grab her by the back of the neck, turn my head ever so slightly so my mouth meets hers and kiss her with all the desire I've accumulated throughout the night.

And holy fuck.

I can barely think now. Has it really been that long? Because my whole body is on fire, my barely there panties are beyond soaked and this is just because of one kiss. It doesn't help that Alexa is one fucking good kisser. Normally I only consider myself a good kisser because I am like the greatest (although Britt and Puck were pretty good. And Rachel. Considering she always used her mouth to talk, she was pretty proficient using it for other things too), but god. Her mouth is so hot against mine. Out lips move in sync and I lose it when our tongues meet in her mouth and she lets out the sexiest fucking moan.

I turn around, without breaking the kiss (because I'm that good), in her arms and deepen the kiss further. I'm pretty sure that the way we are kissing is probably pushing the levels of decency (even for in a club) but I couldn't give a fuck. All I care about is the hand of hers that's massaging my lower back and the other that is gripping my ass.

Hot motherfucking damn.

Oh yeah.

It's time to go. This is so not enough.

"Hey," I husk, reluctantly pulling out of the kiss. "Do you want to get out of here?" she looks at me from under darkened and hooded eyes and after licking her lips slowly (dear God), she nods and takes me hand.

Let the games begin.

####

It takes a bit longer for us to get to my car than expected because 1) I'm tipsy and can't walk straight and 2) I'm horny and she's very handsy and we can't keep out hands off each other. When we first leave the club, hands linked, we stop just around the corner to gather ourselves and try to look like civilized people. But instead she pushes me up against the nearest hard surface (which happens to be a closed clothing store that judging by the dress in the window, I may need to visit during store hours) and kisses me all lips, tongue and teeth. I can't believe I didn't jump at the opportunity to be with her from the first time she gave me her number. But I guess it's hard to focus on a potential when you're out for coffee with your past.

Honestly, like why am I even bothering trying to get with or get back at or whatever the fuck I'm doing (I don't even remember my own motives anymore) with Rachel? I know that I still feel something for her and probably always will since we never really got the closure we needed but unless we're both going to let go of our fucked up past, nothing is ever gonna to change between us. And frankly, I don't want to deal with the drama all over again. Not when I have a hot piece of ass currently sucking on the spot behind my ear that always drives me crazy. How she managed to find it in a matter of seconds, I have no idea. Most of my other hookups take a while to find it, if they ever do at all. It took Rachel until our third make out session and nearly 20 minutes to find that exact spot. But this girl?

Ay dios mio.

Where the hell is my damn car?

Because if we don't get to is soon, we will both get arrested for some serious indecent exposure and possibly public nudity (depending on how much of her I want to feel). Right now, I just need to get to my fucking car before I completely lose it.

I push her off my neck abruptly and before she has a chance to react or respond, I take her by the hand and practically drag her away to the club parking lot. Spotting my car, I let go of her hand and sprint as fast as I can go in heels to the driver's side and wait quite impatiently for her to catch up and get into the passenger's side. Once she gets settled, I start the car. "So where to?" I ask hoping she says her dorm because I really don't feel like dealing with the any idiot roommates tonight, I can leave when I want and something about hooking up in a dorm room brings back fun memories of my freshmen year at Columbia.

"Well my roommate had work today so she's probably asleep in the room right now so how about your place?"

Damn.

My face must be saying what I'm thinking because her eyes get big and she starts back pedaling. "I mean, I didn't want to wake her up and you said that you had an apartment so I figured that and it's just a small dorm room and,"

"Alexa!" I shout to stop her rant. She instantly closes her mouth. "Chill out. We can go to my place. I'm sure my roommates,"

"You have roommates?" she interrupts.

"Yeah. Two idiots. But I think they both have to work tonight," at least I hope they do, "so the place should be completely free." She looks out the window for a moment before turning back to look at me. She grins then takes my free hand from on the center console and puts it on her thigh.

"That will work just fine."

"Cool. Then let's go."

####

The entire car ride back to my place (roughly twenty minutes away from the club) is so slow it's almost torturous. Like if I could pull over somewhere and just have my way with her and be done with it, I normally would have by now. But for some reason, I can't bring myself to do it. It feels wrong. Like, I never felt bad or whatever about where I have sex with different girls (the list including but not limited to bathroom stalls, backseat of a cab, back of a college classroom, under the bleachers, VIP room in a club, on a hammock which was pretty tricky to figure out) but I don't want to just go anywhere with her. Maybe it's because I don't want to get in trouble with the cops again. Maybe it's because I like the appeal of being in my own place. In my own bed and in total control of the situation. Or maybe it's because of the look she's giving me right now. There's something so sweet and innocent yet naughty and seductive about it that makes me actually care. But not like "feelings" caring because I don't have time for that right now. More like just caring about where I lay her down. That's all. Nothing more.

####

The ride up to my apartment is quiet. Like creepy quiet. And the air between is eerily heavy. Somewhere from the club to my car and to my apartment, Alexa's attitude has changed. It didn't take her anytime to grind on me or to drag me out of the club or to push me up against that wall and kiss me like it was her job. But now? She hesitated getting out of the car. The lust in her eyes has faded and has been replaced with what looks like apprehension or nervousness. And even now, as we stand outside my door while I search for my fucking keys in my purse (which really shouldn't be this hard to find), she's behind me rocking back and forth on her heels nervously pulling at her tie and staring at the floor (which isn't really something to stare at unless you wanna look at the gas stain from where my dumbass neighbor Chris decided that he wanted to gas up his moped in the hallway without a damn funnel).

"Are you okay?" I ask, turning around once I find my keys. She looks up quickly and lets go of her tie.

"Ye…yeah. I…I'm fine," she stutters. Oh well isn't this just great? I had to pick the "I don't usually hook up on the first date" kind of girl.

"Are you sure?" It's not like I haven't dealt with nervous girls afraid of one stands or being with a girl for the first time and I have taken my share of virginities (guys and girls) but I feel obligated to ask. "Because you don't have to do this anymore if you're not comfortable. I can take you back to your dorm if you like," I suggest totally out of character and completely against my screaming body that is pleading with me to shut the fuck up.

"No. No, no. It's fine. I'm fine. Just a little nervous is all."

"Nervous about what?" Like I don't know. And why do I even care?

"Being with someone as gorgeous as you are," she says sweetly. Well shit. I did not see that coming. She must sense my trepidation (I need to stop talking with Rachel) because she grabs the sides of my face with both hands and taking a step forward, pulls me into a knee buckling, mind wiping kiss.

"Well what do we have here?" Oh fuck. I was so into the kiss that I didn't even notice that the door behind me had opened to reveal one of the biggest cockblocks in cockblocking history. Now I'm highly aware that I do not have a dick (despite what some might say) but the statement is more fun to use than twatblock so I'm using it. Regardless, it doesn't change that fact that because of the interruption, Alexa pulls away and lets go of my face. "Well hello there new girl," Luis says stepping from behind me and pushing me into the door frame. Stupid ass motherfucker.

"Hi," Alexa says looking at both him and me.

"Hey. I'm Luis." He extends his hand out and she shakes it firmly.

"I'm Alexa."

"Nice to meet you Alexa. I'm her,"

"Pain in the ass roommate who I was hoping would be at work for the night," I interrupt, trying to fill in the blanks.

"Well I was but it was a slow night and they didn't need me." He then redirects his attention back to Alexa. "So Alexa? How do you know my favorite lesbian here?" Oh Lord. "How old are you? What do you do?" he asks like a father interviewing his daughter's first boyfriend. Or girlfriend.

"Well we met at my job, I'm 19 and I'm a student at NYU," she says politely engaging him in conversation.

"NYU. Oh I went to Columbia. San here went there too until she droppe-"

"Okay!" I interrupt. "That's enough of that. No more meet-and-greet for you. Look Alexa, how about I take you home and we try this again some other time?" I ask, practically apologizing for my dumbass roommate's fucked up behavior.

"Are you sure? Because that sounds a lot like a second date and that would mean that you're assuming that I'll go out with you again," she teases like Luis isn't even there.

"So if I were to ask you out like you did me, you wouldn't want to go out with me again?"

"I didn't say that. I just didn't want you to be too presumptuous." I take a step closer to her and pull her towards me by her tie.

"When I look this good, I can't help but be presumptuous," I whisper in her ear before kissing just beneath it.

"You're lucky you're right."

"I'm always right. So let's get you back before it gets too late." I pull her into a quick kiss before pulling her back towards the elevator. "Later asshole!" I yell behind me.

"Bye Alexa!" he says in response, completely ignoring me.

"Nice to meet you," she waves.

"The pleasure was all mine," he says in his usual "I think you're hot" voice.

"Will you stop flirting with my girl while I'm still here?" I say as we enter the elevator.

"Your girl?" I hear him shout before the doors close.

"Your girl, huh?" Alexa asks from the other side of the elevator with crossed arms.

Oh fuck.

Did I really just say that?

"I didn't say that, did I?" I ask.

"Yup. You sure did," she practically sings. "But it's okay. You're cute when you wish for the best," she teases. Two can play this game.

"I'm not cute. I'm gorgeous, remember?" I tease with a wink. She pushes off the wall with her heel and saunters towards me. As she draws closer, I back up and wait for her to reach me on the other wall.

Wait.

Why am I letting her take control? Why am I letting her dominate me? I am Santana motherfucking Lopez. I'm dominant. Not her.

So I grab her by the shoulder as soon as she's close enough and turn her until her back is pressed up against the wall I was just leaning on. She lets out the sexiest high pitched yelp when her back hits the wall and I'm merely seconds from capturing any other sound she tries to make with my mouth when the elevator door opens and I hear a very feminine, very familiar gasp. I pull away and like the rest of my night, luck is not on my side.

"Santana."

Well shit.

"Hey Rachel."

* * *

><p>Earlier…<p>

3 hours. 3 hours straight of writing and making revisions but I'm finally done. The "Finding Lucy" script is completely finished and now all I have to do is get these revisions copied, handed out to the cast, read through, rehearsed and perfected and then we'll be ready to perform. Less than two weeks till opening night and we've got a long way to go.

"So how's the revisions coming Mr. Director?" Caroline asks as she and Gavin enter the apartment.

"First, it's Miss Director. Please kindly get my gender right," I correct. She just rolls her eyes and she and Gavin plop down on the couch. "Second, I am all done actually," I announce, picking up the one printed copy of the revised script and spinning in my computer chair to show them.

"Nice," Gavin exclaims a bit too animatedly but then again, it is Gavin.

"Yes it is," I agree, getting up from the chair, putting on my coat from the back of the chair and placing the script in one hand, grabbing my purse and slinging it over the opposite shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Caroline asks. "I thought we were watching a movie tonight after you finished the script."

"I'm going to drop this copy of the script to Santana," I reply like it's an everyday occurrence to drive nearly thirty minutes out of my way. After midnight. In New York City. To drop a stack of paper off to my ex-girlfriend/current sort of friend.

"Do you realize what time it is?" Gavin asks like I can't read a damn clock.

"Yes. I am very aware of what time it is."

"So you're going out? Now? To drop off a script? That is you could just give her in rehearsal tomorrow?" Caroline asks, crossing her arms.

"Well I want her to be able to look over the revisions before rehearsal tomorrow."

"Rachel, rehearsal is at 5 o'clock in the evening, Santana doesn't go to school and she's not working tomorrow night because of practice."

"Why do you know her schedule?" I question because even I, the director, don't know all my cast and crew's schedules. Especially if they're not in school.

"Well because I actually talk with her."

"I do talk with her," I argue.

"No. You talk to her or at her. And there's so much soiled history between you two that y'all can't have a normal conversation about what's going on with her nowadays."

"We have talked about that."

"When?" I open my mouth to answer but honestly, I don't have an answer. For the short time that I've known Santana this time around, all I know is that she sings at the Blue Mic, isn't in school anymore, has two roommates and likes to sleep around. A lot. But honestly, that's all I really know.

"Exactly. You spend so much time trying to forget the past that you don't pay attention to the present." Why are we having this conversation right now?

"Look, I don't have time for this right now," I dismiss her comment. "I need to get out, get over to her place and back before I get mugged."

"Do you want one of us to come with you or do you want the Sataness all to yourself?" Gavin asks and I swear he sounds more like Kurt than Kurt sometimes.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to go there, drop off the script, make small talk and come back. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Nothing more?" Caroline asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing more," I assure.

"One more question." I really don't have the time for this.

"What now?"

"Why are you hand delivering Lady Loin Killer the script and not doing the same for everyone else?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because clearly you do."

"Okay. Just let it go. I'm going to drop this script off at my friend Santana's place," I say putting emphasis on the word 'friend', "and then I'm coming home and you guys will say no more about it. Got it?"

"Got it," they say at the same time.

"Good. Now bye." And out the door I go.

####

As soon as I get in my car, it hits me. Friend. I called Santana my friend. Is it true? Have we reached the point now where I can consider her a friend again? I mean, we never were friends for that long before. We went from sworn enemies, to frenemies, to tolerable acquaintances to lovers to practically strangers. It was such a quick switch that friends never quite made it in there. But now? I guess if nothing else, I think I can call her friend. And I actually like the sound of it. Now I can only hope that she thinks of me as a friend as well and then maybe we can truly move past the past.

####

It takes me less than 30 minutes to get to Santana's apartment building (I asked Caroline to get her address one day and she was happy to ask Santana for it. And surprisingly, Santana gave it to her with no explanation needed. Weird.) Anyway, I find an empty parking spot in front of her building, grab the script from the passenger's seat and get out. From the looks of it, it's a pretty okay looking apartment building. For New York apartment buildings anyway. Although I was sort of expecting her to be living in a condo somewhere in TriBeca based on how much her father makes but I guess maybe dropping out of college didn't go over well with Papa Lopez.

I guess I spoke too soon when I saw the outside considering the inside in definitely a place I couldn't normally try to frequent. Chipped paint. Dirty floors. Water stains on the ceiling and on places I didn't think it was possible to get water stains. Or at least I hope they are water stains. Flickering lights and I swear I just saw a rat. Or a cockroach. Or a hybrid of the two. A cockrat? Or maybe a rat roach. Either way, Santana can't actually be living in a place like this. She has way too high standards in just about everything to live in a place like this.

Just when I about to press the elevator button to up to the apartment number that Caroline gave me, the elevator door opens. You know, then again, I have been known to be wrong before. I guess she does live her because there she is, leaning up against some girl (who looks vaguely familiar) very intimately like they were about to kiss.

"Santana," I gasp without even thinking. She takes a step back releasing her hold on the girl who, now that I get a good look at her, is the barista from Starbucks who gave Santana her number a few weeks ago. I guess Santana finally called her.

"Hey Rachel," she says, adjusting her clothes.

"Yes. Hey." She looks at me then at the girl, tilts her head out of the elevator, the girl nods and they both exit the elevator letting the doors close behind them. I'm expecting her to say something but of course, like the rest of my Santana expectations lately, that doesn't pan out and she just stands there awkwardly fidgeting with the strap on her purse (which looks oddly familiar). Looks like I need to take the reins on this one.

"Hi. I'm Rachel," I decide to introduce myself to the girl standing equally as awkwardly in front of me.

"Alexa," she replies, extending her hand out for me to shake. Now that she's looking at me and isn't in her Starbuck's uniform, I take notice to how pretty she is. Like really pretty and for some reason, this realization tightens my grip on her hand. She looks at me curiously at the sudden strength of my hand in hers but the look quickly turns into a smile as she shakes it and lets go.

"Pleased to me you," I say politely.

"Likewise," she replies. When again Santana says nothing, I figure I might as well do what I came here to do and leave before the situation gets more uncomfortable. Though I don't think that's possible at this point.

"So I'm sorry I interrupted but Santana," she finally looks me in the eyes, "I just come by to drop off the final revisions of the script." I hand her the stapled pile of papers and she takes it while raising an eyebrow.

"So you drove nearly 30 minutes? By yourself? In the middle of the night? To my crap ass apartment? To drop off revisions to the script that you could've easily given me tomorrow? In the day time? With the rest of the cast?" Why is that so shocking to people?

"Well, yes. You're my lead and I wanted to make sure you had the new parts down before rehearsal."

"So are you going to hand deliver everybody their scripts tonight so they have their parts down too for tomorrow's rehearsal?"

"Well no. I don't have that much ink. I'm probably just going to email them in the morning."

"So I'm the only one who gets this special treatment?" she smirks mischievously and damn if it isn't sexiest thing.

"Santana?" I forgot her date or whatever here.

"Yeah," Santana answers.

"It's pretty late and unless you want me crashing at your place, we probably should go," Alexa says taking Santana's hand and interlinking their fingers.

"As much as I would love to have you stay over," Why am I listening to this? "I would then have to try to get rid of my pet jackass so it's probably best if we just go. Rachel?" Oh. She talking to me now.

"Yes," I answer.

"I have to take her back before it gets too late so I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks for the script."

"No problem. See you tomorrow. Nice meeting you Alexa."

"Nice meeting you too Rachel." And I then watch them leave the building. Together. Holding hands. Together. Wait, I already said that. It must be really late if I'm repeating myself. I better get home before Caroline calls the police to look for my body.

* * *

><p><strong>So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had alotta fun writing it. <strong>

**What to look forward to: more jealous!Rachel, more Santexa, some appearances by some other Glee characters in the future to stir things up and a chapter or two on "that summer".**

**Stay tuned and till then,**

**Jenae**

**Quick question: which Glee characters would you like to see make an appearance? I'd love to hear your thoughts and I just might take your suggestions so keep an eye out ;)**


	13. Chapter 12

**Two in one day? Sweetness! ****Hope you enjoy**

**disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes. The song used in this chapter is Beyonce's "I miss you". I suggest listening to it. It's really good song and hearing it helps you feel the emotion**

* * *

><p>I'm so glad that I made the revisions that I did because seeing the changes actually brought to life on the stage, for the first time since I started on this project, I actually see my vision coming to fruition. And it's mostly thanks to Santana (and I am woman enough to admit it). If not for her voice, acting talent and overall stage presence, this musical would not be as good as it is.<p>

I mean right now, even though the rest of the cast and crew is on a break, Santana is up on the stage practicing vocal runs. I remember her doing that more often than people thought back in high school. Especially during the West Side Story days. Many people didn't realize how hard of a worker she really was. Maybe it's because they assumed that she just used her looks to get over and in many cases, she did (flawless looks and a cheerleader's body could get you anywhere in McKinley High). Even though she could get away with a lot, she was always being compared to Quinn Fabray so she still had to work for most she got. And I learned early on that when it came to her voice, dance and performing, she always put 110% into it. Well not including when she first joined Glee but nobody was doing anything but me so I'll let that one go. But in Glee, Cheerios and the other things she loved to do, she put her absolute best into it and demanded that everyone around her do the same. A trait that I'm happy she still has.

"So are you going to sit there and leer at her all day or are you going to go up there and sing something with her? I know you want to." I almost yelp at the interruption of my silent contemplation. And of course, Caroline being the bitch that she is sometimes, finds it hilarious. "Sorry, did I scare you?" she apologizes, laughing anyhow.

"Yes. And no you're not," I say, clenching my fast beating heart.

"You're right. I'm not sorry. But seriously, go sing with her," she suggests, sitting down next to me.

"No thanks. Besides, she's just practicing. I don't want to interrupt."

"Bullshit. You love to interrupt. And since when did you ever pass up an opportunity to sing? Has Lady Sexy Lips messed you up that much?"

"No. I just don't want to bother her."

"Again, bullshit. But won't singing together like magically fix things or some shit like in all your Glee club stories?"

"I never said it magically fixed things." Most of the time, I remember it making things worse.

"Not what I remember you saying but anyway, if I've learned one thing from studying music, it's that sometimes it's easier to sing someone else's words than to find your own to say."

"And what is it that you think I have to say?" I question, crossing my arms across my chest. I really want to hear this one

"Well for starters, that you're sorry for hurting her so long ago." I roll my eyes. "That you're sorry for losing touch and taking so long to say you're sorry."

"Correction, she's the one that disappeared and lost touch with me."

"Details. But you made no effort to find her and now you want a fresh start," she says confidently.

"Is that all?" I ask with my arms still crossed but slightly tighter on my body. She puts her pointer finger to her chin, animatedly thinking before answering.

"Oh! And that you still have feelings for her." Instantly I start laughing so loud and unrestrained that it radiates throughout the entire theater and the echo causes Santana to stop singing and to look at us.

"Are you quite done?" Caroline asks, plucking me on the arm. Hard.

"Ow! And I'll stop laughing when you stop being so damn funny," I say, rubbing my arm.

"I'm not being funny. I'm being serious. You forget I know you and all your tells. You either still like her or you like her again. Either way, you like her." I roll my eyes. Me have feelings for Santana? That's laughable. Okay, so maybe I did feel a little something when she first came back into my life but it was mostly anger and left over hurt from her leaving. And some guilt for being the one responsible for it. But now? I've just started to consider her a friend again and things are become easier with every passing day. Why would I go and ruin something like that by bringing feelings I don't have for her into it?

"You're crazy."

"Okay. Fine. Then I'll prove it. Glee style." She gets up and runs to the stage. Why am I scared now? What on earth could she possibly have up her sneaky blonde sleeve? And what did she mean 'Glee style'?

As soon as she gets to the stage, she claps her hands and calls for the cast to return to the stage. Oh God, what is she doing? As the cast, Santana included, gathers on the stage, I get up from my director's seat and join them all on the stage.

"Alright, alright, alright. Quiet down," Caroline calls, trying to get silence on the stage but failing miserably.

"Shut the fuck up and listen!" Santana yells, clapping her hands for emphasis and instantly everyone quiets down. I guess she still can demand attention from a crowd. Impressive.

"Well alright. Thank you Tasty Tana" Caroline says with a wink. Santana just shrugs and rolls her eyes.

"So what's up?" Gavin asks.

"Well I decided that it's been a while since we've all done something fun in rehearsal with opening night in less than 2 weeks and all." Miscellaneous head nods and words in agreement. "So I thought that we could play a little game. Okay well, maybe not a game per say. More like a challenge."

"What kind of challenge?' I ask.

"A musical one." Now I'm interested. "I will randomly select duet partners and then give you a song to sing. Which you will be given 10 minutes to prepare before you perform it for all of us. Me and Becka will select the best duet and that pair will get dinner on me at Applebee's, that I will pick up after we select the winners. Sound like fun?" More miscellaneous nods and murmurs of agreement. All except one.

"So let me get this straight," Santana chimes in just like our days in Glee club. "You're going to randomly select duet partners, give us a song and then select the best?' Caroline nods. "How can any of that be impartial?"

"She's kind of right," I agree. "You like to pick favorites a lot so it will likely be bias."

"Do you not trust me enough to be impartial?" Caroline asks as innocently as she can.

"Uh no," Santana and I say at the same time.

"Well I'm doing this this way and I don't care what you think. Now because of you insolence, I'm putting you too naysayers together."

"What?!" We say at the same time. Again.

"Yup yup. And I have the perfect song too. And you'll get it as soon as I assign the other partners. You're welcome," she finishes by winking at me for some odd…

Oh.

That little sneaky bitch.

####

"So you sure you want to do this?" Santana asks me as we walk on stage to perform the song that Caroline selected for us (aren't I director?).

"It's just a performance, Santana. For fun," I say, trying to hide the weird feeling building in the pit of my stomach.

"But it's a pretty intense song that in some ways, sort of hits close to home for us. Don't you think?"

"I don't know. Does it?" She nods. "What? You can't handle singing a song with a friend without getting all emotional?" she stops short of the center of the stage.

"I'm your friend now?" I turn slightly to find her looking at me curiously.

"Well yes. What else would you be?" I say confidently.

"Yeah. What else?" she says, timidly.

"Ready ladies!" Caroline yells from my director's seat. All eyes are on us now. "Miss Director?" I nod. "Señorita Seduction?" Santana rolls her eyes but nods anyway. "Well alright then. Let's hear it. Wow me. Start whenever you're ready." We both nod and she stands on the spot on the other side of the stage while I stand in the center like we planned.

This is the first time I've really performed anything since starting this musical (except when I first introduced the songs) and I'm not going to lie. I'm a bit nervous. Maybe it's because of the song content. Maybe it's because I'm being judged by my closest friends. Or maybe it's because of my duet partner.

The band starts to play and even though the music calms my nerves, as soon as Santana starts to sing, they return fiercer than before. (A/N: _Santana's parts_, **Rachel's parts,_ both of them_**)

_I thought that things would get better with time_

_But I still need you, why is that?_

_You're the only image in my mind_

_So I still see you, around_

**I miss you, like everyday**

**Wanna be with you, but you're away**

**Said I miss you, missing you insane**

**But if I got with, could it feel the same?**

As I sing, Santana approaches me slowly, staring me right in the eyes. The intensity in her eyes is almost enough to make me forget the words to the song.

**Words don't ever seem to come out right**

**But I still mean 'em, why is that?**

_It hurts my pride to tell you how I feel_

_But I need to, why is that?_

There is something in her eyes that her mouth isn't saying and her body isn't showing. She's singing her parts perfectly and her body is poised and confident. But her eyes? What could it be? Anger? Sadness? Hurt? It has to be something because she's capturing the sadness and longing of the song a bit too well. I think this is the first time since high school I've seen her this vulnerable.

**_I miss you, like everyday_**

**_Wanna be with you, but you're away_**

**_I said I miss you, missing you insane_**

**_But if I got with you, could it feel the same?_**

Our voices blend so easily that it brings me back to our West Side Story Days.

No.

That's not it.

More like the day we spent the entire day on the couch together the summer after graduation. We were singing whatever came on the radio and it was so much fun then. There was such a fire in her eyes that was mesmerizing. But now? It just hurts to think about that. I can't stand to see the darkness in her eyes. Oh her eyes.

**It don't matter who you are**

_It's so simple, a feeling_

_But it's everything_

**No matter who you love**

_It's so simple, a feeling_

_But it's everything _

**_I miss you, like everyday_**

**_Wanna be with you, but you're away (_**_but you're away)_

**I said I miss you, missing you insane**

_But if I got with you, could it feel the same_

Oh my God. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't stand here and listen to her basically sing out her heartache right in front of me. Especially when I feel like curling up in a hole and dying. I can't take listening to her sing the words that fit us more than I want to admit. Especially not after seeing her up against that…that girl. I ju…I just can't.

I stop singing, scurry off the stage, leaving a confused Santana on the stage and Caroline and the rest of the cast silent in the theater and rush back into one of the dressing rooms. As soon as I enter, I slam the door shut and lean my back against it, breathing heavily. Why am I feeling this way? Why is my heart racing? Why is my head reeling? What the hell is going on? I tell her that it's just a song and there's no need to get all emotional and then I'm the one that can't finish the damn song because the pressure in my chest grew too great. But the look in her eyes. It was almost the same empty look from when I left her and broke her heart.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. "Rach? Sweetie. Let me in please," Caroline pleads from outside the door. I take a deep breath and wipe the tears from my eyes that I hadn't noticed were there before stepping away from the door and sitting down on the couch next to it.

"Come in," I let out in a struggled tone.

"You okay honey?" she says opening the door slowly and closing it as soon as she enters. I think about being the great actress that I am and just putting on a brave front and saying yes but why bother? I've been faking for far too long.

"Not really," I admit.

"What's going on? You sort of shot out of there like a bat-out-of-hell in a rocket powered jet." She sits down next to me.

"I think you may have been right."

"About what sweetie?"

"About songs saying what we can't. Or what we won't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," I take a deep breath, "I think that I'm not completely over Santana." She grins. "I mean, I think somehow, after all these years, I still have feelings for her."

"Well duh!" she says grinning from ear to ear. "I could've told you that."

"You have."

"True. But this great. So now what? Should I mark Fridays on that obnoxious calendar you have in the kitchen as 'Rachel and Santana sexy times'?"

"Um, no."

"How about Sanchel time? Or," she thinks for a second, "Oh I got it. Pezberry date night."

"No. Now we do nothing."

"What? Why? She wants you. And you've finally admitted that you want her too. So what's the hold up?"

"I'm not so sure she wants me as much as she did before."

"What makes you say that?"

"Alexa." I slump further into the couch.

"Alexa? Who the fuck is Alexa?"

"Santana's latest girl. I ran into them last night when I dropped off the script."

"So is that why you came back in a funk?"

"No," I scoff. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

"Awww, you're jealous," she teases.

"Am not."

"So are. And that just proves that you do still have feelings for her."

"I just told you I did."

"Well this proves it. So now all we have to do is see how serious Santana is about this Alexa chick is and then get the Voluptuous Vixen to admit her feelings for you and then you can get laid like I know you need to."

"Just when you were doing so well, you go and say something like that."

"But I'm right. And that's all that matters." I take the opportunity to pick up one of the pillows on the couch and smacking her across the face with it.

"Now your broken nose is all that matters," I say, laughing as she falls back into the couch covering her face.

* * *

><p><strong>First, can y'all keep all reviews constructive and polite? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks.<strong>

**Second, what did y'all think?**

**Third,Pezberry will most definitely be endgame but it's gonna take them some work for things work out right so hang in there. Nothing good happens overnight. And plus, jealous!Rachel is fun to write**

**Lastly, I asking you all for suggestions for who you would like to help get Pezberry together (which will be in the next 3-4 chapters so try to stay with me. I'll make it worth the wait). Caroline is definitely a Pezberry shipper and will help but should I bring in some outside assistance? Let me know**

**Stay tuned and till then,**

**Jenae**


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